


7? 





• o 


. K »- . r ^ • 

V *"’• %*•■•’ 9*°'.,../"% * A* . 

% 0 ^ ♦* /0 - ;*v . / .'i\^A> %. <fr ' 

. :4SPSit: ^ v % mlMA- • 

• *wrlw* v> ^ o 

;• ^ °,™‘ v ^ 'JtQRSrS «x ’ 

,0* °J .-if *% -° v ■•'■'-’* * c 

<; C&. . - aN « -SSi\\WL- V, 

o* 





. aV<^ : 
/ .♦♦ ^ • 


*. %..<? /dfe*. V,/ - 

*/* <3 • 


* 

* AV , 

• 7*’ J V <> ^TT*’ o* '-?.?** /V ^ V 

( ^ o /xvSi<SiilU*8t • 'r * _< 




: W • 

• . 

. % °. 



c *o° ,o° ^ *?/;••* °o, '* ;fv>* 0 ° 

. ^ •>w». «c a* » vafer . ^ >* .w A *. « 

V* v r ^ V * 

• <A ^ o • aV'^V - 

♦ 4/ V o V 4 a v • 

- . * - <CT v> 'o . * * A <v ♦77'T* ,0 v 

* * C,° °0 A •%^vt* > + cP S 

+ T k v ♦ »{il //C?2^ ^ i\ % <NX\W * *7 „ v ♦ 

^ *> •aSsSBiT 


-Sv “. 


o V 



> •a. > v<> • iP ^ * 

i* «j* cv *?*>!§§***♦ o ^ a* o * 

*♦ *^fe'- ^ ^ 4 Va- s ** ** ' & fer. * 

$°In. • aV^ 

^ a 



^<v ^7v?* .6* ^ '• • * * A <!^ •^vvf* 


















A Girl of the Limberlost 









COPYRIGHT, I909, BY 

DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 



2 3 > O 2. 


I 


L f 








PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES 
BY ARRANGEMENT WITH DOUBLEDAY & COMPANY, INC. 


To 

all girls of the Limberlost 
in general 
and one 

Jeannette Helen Porter 
in particular 




Contents 


I Wherein Elnora Goes to High School and Learns 


Many Lessons Not Found in Her Books . . i 

II Wherein Wesley and Margaret Go Shopping, and 

Elnora’ s Wardrobe Is Replenished ... 17 

III Wherein Elnora Visits the Bird Woman and 

Opens a Bank Account 26 

IV Wherein the Sintons Are Disappointed, and Mrs. 

Comstock Learns That She Gan Laugh . 36 

V Wherein Elnora Receives a Warning, and Billy 

Appears on the Scene 56 

VI Wherein Mrs. Comstock Indulges in “Frills,” and 

Billy Reappears 68 

VII Wherein Mrs. Comstock Manipulates Margaret, 

and Billy Acquires a Residence .... 84 

VIII Wherein the Limberlost Tempts Elnora, and Billy 

Buries His Father 107 

IX Wherein Elnora Discovers a Violin, and Billy 

Disciplines Margaret 114 

X Wherein Elnora Has More Financial Troubles, 
and Mrs. Comstock Again Hears the Song of 
the Limberlost 126 

XI Wherein Elnora Graduates, and Freckles and the 

Angel Send Gifts *43 

vii 


CONTENTS 


viii 

XII Wherein Margaret Sinton Reveals a Secret, and 

Mrs. Comstock Possesses the Limberlost . 157 

XIII Wherein Mother Love Is Bestowed on Elnora, 

and She Finds an Assistant in Moth Hunting 179 

XIV Wherein a New Position Is Tendered Elnora, and 

Philip Ammon Is Shown Limberlost Violets . 193 

XV Wherein Mrs. Comstock Faces the Almighty, and 

Philip Ammon Writes a Letter .204 

XVI Wherein the Limberlost Sings for Philip, and the 

Talking Trees Tell Great Secrets . 216 

XVII Wherein Mrs. Comstock Dances in the Moon- 


light, and Elnora Makes a Confession 226 

XVIII Wherein Mrs. Comstock Experiments with Reju- 
venation, and Elnora Teaches Natural History 239 

XIX Wherein Philip Ammon Gives a Ball in Honor of 
Edith Carr, and Hart Henderson Appears on 
the Scene 248 

XX Wherein the Elder Ammon Offers Advice, and 

Edith Carr Experiences Regrets . .260 

XXI Wherein Philip Ammon Returns to the Limber- 
lost, and Elnora Studies the Situation 268 

XXII Wherein Philip Ammon Kneels to Elnora, and 

Strangers Come to the Limberlost 282 

XXIII Wherein Elnora Reaches a Decision, and Freckles 

and the Angel Appear 297 

XXIV Wherein Edith Carr Wages a Battle, and Hart 

Henderson Stands Guard 308 

XXV Wherein Philip Finds Elnora, and Edith Carr 

Off ers a Yellow Emperor 319 


Characters 


Elnora, who collects moths to pay for her education, and lives 
the Golden Rule. 

Philip Ammon, who assists in moth hunting, and gains a new 
conception of love. 

Mrs. Comstock, who lost a delusion and found a treasure. 
Wesley Sinton, who always did his best. 

Margaret Sinton, who “mothers” Elnora. 

Billy, a boy from real life. 

Edith Carr, who discovers herself. 

Hart Henderson, to whom love means all things. 

Polly Ammon, who pays an old score. 

Tom Levering, engaged to Polly. 

Terence O’More, Freckles grown tall. 

Mrs. O’More, who remained the Angel. 

Terence, Alice and Little Brother, the O’More children. 
























A Girl of the Limberlost 


CHAPTER I 


Wherein Elnora Goes to High School 
and Learns Many Lessons Not Found 
in Her Books 


“Elnora Comstock, have you lost your senses?” demanded the 
angry voice of Katharine Comstock while she glared at her daugh- 
ter. 

“Why, mother!” faltered the girl. 

“Don’t you ‘why, mother’ me!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “You 
know very well what I mean. You’ve given me no peace until 
you’ve had your way about this going to school business; I’ve 
fixed you good enough, and you’re ready to start. But no child 
of mine walks the streets of Onabasha looking like a play-actress 
woman. You wet your hair and comb it down modest and decent 
and then be off, or you’ll have no time to find where you belong.” 

Elnora gave one despairing glance at the white face, framed in 
a most becoming riot of reddish-brown hair, which she saw in the 
little kitchen mirror. Then she untied the narrow black ribbon, 
wet the comb and plastered the waving curls close to her head, 
bound them fast, pinned on the skimpy black hat and opened the 
back door. 

“You’ve gone so plumb daffy you are forgetting your dinner,” 
jeered her mother. 

“I don’t want anything to eat,” replied Elnora. 

“You’ll take your dinner or you’ll not go one step. Are you 
crazy? Walk almost three miles and no food from six in the morn- 
ing until six at night. A pretty figure you’d cut if you had your 


2 


A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

way ! And after I’ve gone and bought you this nice new pail and 
filled it especial to start on!” 

Elnora came back with a face still whiter and picked up the 
lunch. “Thank you, mother! Good-bye!” she said. Mrs. Com- 
stock did not reply. She watched the girl follow the long walk to 
the gate and go from sight on the road, in the bright sunshine of 
the first Monday of September. 

“I bet a dollar she gets enough of it by night!” commented 
Mrs. Comstock. 

Elnora walked by instinct, for her eyes were blinded with tears. 
She left the road where it turned south at the corner of the Lim- 
berlost, climbed a snake fence and entered a path worn by her 
own feet. Dodging under willow and scrub oak branches she came 
at last to the faint outline of an old trail made in the days when 
the precious timber of the swamp was guarded by armed men. 
This path she followed until she reached a thick clump of bushes. 
From the debris in the end of a hollow log she took a key that un- 
locked the padlock of a large weather-beaten old box, inside of 
which lay several books, a butterfly apparatus, and a small 
cracked mirror. The walls were lined thickly with gaudy butter- 
flies, dragonflies, and moths. She set up the mirror and once more 
pulling the ribbon from her hair, she shook the bright mass over 
her shoulders, tossing it dry in the sunshine. Then she straight- 
ened it, bound it loosely, and replaced her hat. She tugged vainly 
at the low brown calico collar and gazed despairingly at the gen- 
erous length of the narrow skirt. She lifted it as she would have 
cut it if possible. That disclosed the heavy high leather shoes, at 
sight of which she seemed positively ill, and hastily dropped the 
skirt. She opened the pail, removed the lunch, wrapped it in the 
napkin, and placed it in a small pasteboard box. Locking the 
case again she hid the key and hurried down the trail. 

She followed it around the north end of the swamp and then 
entered a footpath crossing a farm leading in the direction of the 
spires of the city to the northeast. Again she climbed a fence and 
was on the open road. For an instant she leaned against the fence 
staring before her, then turned and looked back. Behind her lay 
the land on which she had been bom to drudgery and a mother 


ELNORA GOES TO HIGH SCHOOL 3 

who made no pretence of loving her; before her lay the city 
through whose schools she hoped to find means of escape and the 
way to reach the things for which she cared. When she thought 
of how she appeared she leaned more heavily against the fence 
and groaned; when she thought of turning back and wearing 
such clothing in ignorance all the days of her life, she set her teeth 
firmly and went hastily toward Onabasha. 

On the bridge crossing a deep culvert at the suburbs she 
glanced around, and then kneeling she thrust the lunch box be- 
tween the foundation and the flooring. This left her empty- 
handed as she approached the big stone high school building. She 
entered bravely and inquired her way to the office of the super- 
intendent. There she learned that she should have come the pre- 
vious week and arranged about her classes. There were many 
things incident to the opening of school, and one man unable to 
cope with all of them. 

“Where have you been attending school?” he asked, while he 
advised the teacher of Domestic Science not to telephone for 
groceries until she knew how many she would have in her classes; 
wrote an order for chemicals for the students of science; and 
advised the leader of the orchestra to hire a professional to take 
the place of the bass violist, reported suddenly ill. 

“I finished last spring at Brushwood school, district number 
nine,” said Elnora. “I have been studying all summer. I am quite 
sure I can do the first year work, if I have a few days to get 
started.” 

“Of course, of course,” assented the superintendent. “Almost 
invariably country pupils do good work. You may enter first year, 
and if it is too difficult, we will find it out speedily. Your teachers 
will tell you the list of books you must have, and if you will come 
with me I will show you the way to the auditorium. It is now time 
for opening exercises. Take any seat you find vacant.” 

Elnora stood before the entrance and stared into the largest 
room she ever had seen. The floor sloped to a yawning stage 
on which a band of musicians, grouped around a grand piano, 
were tuning their instruments. She had two fleeting impres- 
sions. That it was all a mistake; this was no school, but a 


A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 


4 

grand display of enormous ribbon bows; and the second, that 
she was sinking, and had forgotten how to walk. Then a burst 
from the orchestra nerved her while a bevy of daintily clad, 
sweet-smelling things that might have been birds, or flowers, or 
possibly gaily dressed, happy young girls, pushed her forward. 
She found herself plodding across the back of the auditorium, 
praying for guidance, to an empty seat. 

As the girls passed her, vacancies seemed to open to meet 
them. Their friends were moving over, beckoning and whisper- 
ing invitations. Everyone else was seated, but no one paid any 
attention to the white-faced girl stumbling half-blindly down the 
aisle next the farthest wall. So she went on to the very end facing 
the stage. No one moved, and she could not summon courage to 
crowd past others to several empty seats she saw. At the end of 
the aisle she paused in desperation, while she stared back at the 
whole forest of faces most of which were now turned upon her. 

In a flash came the full realization of her scanty dress, her 
pitiful little hat and ribbon, her big, heavy shoes, her ignorance 
of where to go or what to do ; and from a sickening wave which 
crept over her, she felt she was going to become very ill. Then out 
of the mass she saw a pair of big, brown boy eyes, three seats from 
her, and there was a message in them. Without moving his body 
he reached forward and with a pencil touched the back of the 
seat before him. Instantly Elnora took another step which brought 
her to a row of vacant front seats. 

She heard laughter behind her; the knowledge that she wore 
the only hat in the room burned her; every matter of moment, 
and some of none at all, cut and stung. She had no books. Where 
should she go when this was over? What would she give to be on 
the trail going home ! She was shaking with a nervous chill when 
the music ceased, and the superintendent arose, and coming 
down to the front of the flower-decked platform, opened a Bible 
and began to read. Elnora did not know what he was reading, 
and she felt that she did not care. Wildly she was racking her 
brain to decide whether she should sit still when the others left 
the room or follow, and ask someone where the Freshmen went 
first. 


ELNORA GOES TO HIGH SCHOOL 5 

In the midst of the struggle one sentence fell on her ear. “Hide 
me under the shadow of Thy wings.” 

Elnora began to pray frantically. “Hide me, O God, hide me, 
under the shadow of Thy wings.” 

Again and again she implored that prayer, and before she 
realized what was coming, everyone had arisen and the room was 
emptying rapidly. Elnora hurried after the nearest girl and in the 
press at the door touched her sleeve timidly. 

“Will you please tell me where the Freshmen go?” she asked 
huskily. 

The girl gave her one surprised glance, and drew away. 

“Same place as the fresh women,” she answered, and those 
nearest her laughed. 

Elnora stopped praying suddenly and the color crept into her 
face. “I’ll wager you are the first person I meet when I find it,” 
she said and stopped short. “Not that! Oh, I must not do that!” 
she thought in dismay. “Make an enemy the first thing I do. Oh, 
not that!” 

She followed with her eyes as the young people separated in 
the hall, some climbing stairs, some disappearing down side halls, 
some entering adjoining doors. She saw the girl overtake the 
brown-eyed boy and speak to him. He glanced back at Elnora 
with a scowl on his face. Then she stood alone in the hall. 

Presently a door opened and a young woman came out and 
entered another room. Elnora waited until she returned, and 
hurried to her. “Would you tell me where the Freshmen are?” 
she panted. 

“Straight down the hall, three doors to your left,” was the 
answer, as the girl passed. 

“One minute please, oh please,” begged Elnora. “Should I 
knock or just open the door?” 

“Go in and take a seat,” replied the teacher. 

“What if there aren’t any seats?” gasped Elnora. 

“Classrooms are never half-filled, there will be plenty,” was the 
answer. 

Elnora removed her hat. There was no place to put it, so she 
carried it in her hand. She looked infinitely better without it. 


6 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

After several efforts she at last opened the door and stepping in- 
side faced a smaller and more concentrated battery of eyes. 

“The superintendent sent me. He thinks I belong here,” she 
said to the professor in charge of the class, but she never before 
heard the voice with which she spoke. As she stood waiting, the 
girl of the hall passed on her way to the blackboard, and sup- 
pressed laughter told Elnora that her thrust had been repeated. 

“Be seated,” said the professor, and then because he saw 
Elnora was desperately embarrassed he proceeded to lend her a 
book and to ask her if she had studied algebra. She said she had 
a little, but not the same book they were using. He asked her if she 
felt that she could do the work they were beginning, and she said 
she did. 

That was how it happened, that three minutes after entering 
the room she was told to take her place beside the girl who had 
gone last to the board, and whose flushed face and angry eyes 
avoided meeting Elnora’s. Being compelled to concentrate on her 
proposition she forgot herself. When the professor asked that all 
pupils sign their work she firmly wrote “Elnora Comstock” under 
her demonstration. Then she took her seat and waited with white 
lips and trembling limbs, as one after another the professor called 
the names on the board, while their owners arose and explained 
their propositions, or “flunked” if they had not found a correct 
solution. She was so eager to catch their forms of expression and 
prepare herself for her recitation, that she never looked from the 
work on the board, until clearly and distinctly, “Elnora Cora- 
stock,” called the professor. 

The dazed girl stared at the board. One tiny curl added to the 
top of the first curve of the m in her name, had transformed it 
from a good old English patronymic that any girl might bear 
proudly, to Comstock. Elnora sat speechless. When and how did 
it happen? She could feel the wave of smothered laughter in the 
air around her. A rush of anger turned her face scarlet and her 
soul sick. The voice of the professor addressed her directly. 

“This proposition seems to be beautifully demonstrated, Miss 
Cornstalk,” he said. “Surely, you can tell us how you did it.” 

That word of praise saved her. She could do good work. They 


ELNORA GOES TO HIGH SCHOOL J 

might wear their pretty clothes, have their friends and make life 
a greater misery than it ever before had been for her, but not one 
of them should do better work or be more womanly. That lay 
with her. She was tall, straight, and handsome as she arose. 

“Of course I can explain my work,” she said in natural tones. 
“What I can’t explain is how I happened to be so stupid as to 
make a mistake in writing my own name. I must have been a little 
nervous. Please excuse me.” 

She went to the board, swept off the signature with one stroke, 
then rewrote it plainly. “My name is Comstock,” she said dis- 
tinctly. She returned to her seat and following the formula used 
by the others made her first high school recitation. 

As Elnora resumed her seat Professor Henley looked at her 
steadily. “It puzzles me,” he said deliberately, “how you can 
write as beautiful a demonstration, and explain it as clearly as 
ever has been done in any of my classes and still be so disturbed 
as to make a mistake in your own name. Are you very sure you 
did that yourself, Miss Comstock?” 

“It is impossible that anyone else should have done it,” an- 
swered Elnora. 

“I am very glad you think so,” said the professor. “Being Fresh- 
men, all of you are strangers to me. I should dislike to begin the 
year with you feeling there was one among you small enough to 
do a trick like that. The next proposition, please.” 

When the hour had gone the class filed back to the study room 
and Elnora followed in desperation, because she did not know 
where else to go. She could not study as she had no books, and 
when the class again left the room to go to another professor for 
the next recitation, she went also. At least they could put her out 
if she did not belong there. Noon came at last, and she kept with 
the others until they dispersed on the sidewalk. She was so ab- 
normally self-conscious she fancied all the hundreds of that 
laughing throng saw and jested at her. When she passed the 
brown-eyed boy walking with the girl of her encounter she knew, 
for she heard him say: “Did you really let that gawky piece of 
calico get ahead of you?” The answer was indistinct. 

Elnora hurried from the city. She intended to get her lunch, 


8 


A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 


eat it in the shade of the first tree, and then decide whether she 
would go back or go home. She knelt on the bridge and reached 
for her box, but it was so very light that she was prepared for the 
fact that it was empty, before opening it. There was one thing for 
which to be thankful. The boy or tramp who had seen her hide it, 
had left the napkin. She would not have to face her mother and 
account for its loss. She put it in her pocket, and threw the box 
into the ditch. Then she sat on the bridge and tried to think, but 
her brain was confused. 

“Perhaps the worst is over,” she said at last. “I will go back. 
What would mother say to me if I came home now?” 

So she returned to the high school, followed some other pupils 
to the coat room, hung her hat, and found her way to the study 
where she had been in the morning. Twice that afternoon, with 
aching head and empty stomach, she faced strange professors, in 
different branches. Once she escaped notice ; the second time the 
worst happened. She was asked a question she could not answer. 

“Have you not decided on your course, and secured your 
books?” inquired the professor. 

“I have decided on my course,” replied Elnora, “I do not 
know where to ask for my books.” 

“Ask?” the professor was bewildered. 

“I understood the books were furnished,” faltered Elnora. 

“Only to those bringing an order from the township trustee,” 
replied the Professor. 

“No! Oh no!” cried Elnora. “I will have them tomorrow,” 
and gripped her desk for support for she knew that was not true. 
Four books, ranging perhaps at a dollar and a half apiece; would 
her mother buy them? Of course she would not — could not. 

Did not Elnora know the story of old. There was enough land, 
but no one to do clearing and farm. Tax on all those acres, re- 
cently the new gravel road tax added, the expense of living and 
only the work of two women to meet all of it. She was insane to 
think she could come to the city to school. Her mother had been 
right. The girl decided that if only she lived to reach home, she 
would stay there and lead any sort of life to avoid more of this 
torture. Bad as what she wished to escape had been, it was noth- 


ELNORA GOES TO HIGH SCHOOL 9 

ing like this. She never could live down the movement that went 
through the class when she inadvertently revealed the fact that 
she had expected books to be furnished. Her mother would not 
secure them ; that settled the question. 

But the end of misery is never in a hurry to come; before the 
day was over the superintendent entered the room and ex- 
plained that pupils from the country were charged a tuition of 
twenty dollars a year. That really was the end. Previously Elnora 
had canvassed a dozen methods for securing the money for books, 
ranging all the way from offering to wash the superintendent’s 
dishes to breaking into the bank. This additional expense made 
her plans so wildly impossible, there was nothing to do but hold 
up her head until she was from sight. 

Down the long corridor alone among hundreds, down the long 
street alone among thousands, out into the country she came at 
last. Across the fence and field, along the old trail once trodden 
by a boy’s bitter agony, now stumbled a white-faced girl, sick at 
heart. She sat on a log and began to sob in spite of her efforts at 
self-control. At first it was physical breakdown, later, thought 
came crowding. 

Oh the shame, the mortification ! Why had she not known of 
the tuition? How did she happen to think that in the city books 
were furnished? Perhaps it was because she had read they were in 
several states. But why did she not know? Why did not her mother 
go with her? Other mothers — but when had her mother ever been 
or done anything at all like other mothers? Because she never 
had been it was useless to blame her now. Elnora realized she 
should have gone to town the week before, called on someone 
and learned all these things herself. She should have remembered 
how her clothing would look, before she wore it in public places. 
Now she knew, and her dreams were over. She must go home to 
feed chickens, calves, and pigs, wear calico and coarse shoes, and 
with averted head, pass a library all her life. She sobbed again. 

“For pity’s sake, honey, what’s the matter?” asked the voice of 
the nearest neighbor, Wesley Sinton, as he seated himself beside 
Elnora. “There, there,” he continued, smearing tears all over her 
face in an effort to dry them. “Was it as bad as that, now? Mag- 


10 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

gie has been just wild over you all day. She’s got nervouser every 
minute. She said we were foolish to let you go. She said your 
clothes were not right, you ought not to carry that tin pail, and 
that they would laugh at you. By gum, I see they did !” 

“Oh, Uncle Wesley,” sobbed the girl, “why didn’t she tell me?” 

“Well, you see, Elnora, she didn’t like to. You got such a way 
of holding up your head, and going through with things. She 
thought some way that you’d make it, till you got started, and 
then she begun to see a hundred things we should have done. I 
reckon you hadn’t reached that building before she remembered 
that your skirt should have been pleated instead of gathered, youf 
shoes been low, and lighter for hot September weather, and a new 
hat. Were your clothes right, Elnora?” 

The girl broke into hysterical laughter. “Right!” she cried. 
“Right! Uncle Wesley, you should have seen me among them! 
I was a picture ! They’ll never forget me. No, they won’t get the 
chance, for they’ll see me again tomorrow!” 

“Now that is what I call spunk, Elnora ! Downright grit,” said 
Wesley Sinton. “Don’t you let them laugh you out. You’ve helped 
Margaret and me for years at harvest and busy times, what you’ve 
earned must amount to quite a sum. You can get yourself a good 
many clothes with it.” 

“Don’t mention clothes, Uncle Wesley,” sobbed Elnora. “I 
don’t care now how I look. If I don’t go back all of them will 
know it’s because I am so poor I can’t buy my books.” 

“Oh, I don’t know as you are so dratted poor,” said Sinton 
meditatively. “There are three hundred acres of good land, with 
fine timber as ever grew on it.” 

“It takes all we can earn to pay the tax, and mother wouldn’t 
cut a tree for her life.” 

“Well then, maybe, I’ll be compelled to cut one for her,” sug- 
gested Sinton. “Anyway, stop tearing yourself to pieces and tell 
me. If it isn’t clothes, what is it?” 

“It’s books and tuition. Over twenty dollars in all.” 

“Humph! First time I ever knew you to be stumped by twenty 
dollars, Elnora,” said Sinton, patting her hand. 

“It’s the first time you ever knew me to want money,” an- 


ELNORA GOES TO HIGH SCHOOL II 

swered Elnora. “This is different from anything that ever hap- 
pened to me. Oh, how can I get it, Uncle Wesley ?” 

“Drive to town with me in the morning and I’ll draw it from 
the bank for you. I owe you every cent of it.” 

“You know you don’t owe me a penny, and I wouldn’t touch 
one from you, unless I really could earn it. For anything that’s 
past I owe you and Aunt Margaret for all the home life and love 
I’ve ever known. I know how you work, and I’ll not take your 
money.” 

“Just a loan, Elnora, just a loan for a little while until you can 
earn it. You can be proud with all the rest of the world, but there 
are no secrets between us, are there, Elnora?” 

“No,” said Elnora, “there are none. You and Aunt Margaret 
have given me all the love there has been in my life. That is the 
one reason above all others why you shall not give me charity. 
Hand me money because you find me crying for it ! This isn’t the 
first time this old trail has known tears and heartache. All of us 
know that story. Freckles stuck to what he undertook and won 
out. I stick, too. When Duncan moved away he gave me all 
Freckles left in the swamp, and as I have inherited his property 
maybe his luck will come with it. I won’t touch your money, but 
I’ll win some way. First, I’m going home and try mother. It’s just 
possible I could find second-hand books, and perhaps all the tui- 
tion need not be paid at once. Maybe they would accept it quar- 
terly. But oh, Uncle Wesley, you and Aunt Margaret keep on 
loving me! I’m so lonely, and no one else cares!” 

Wesley Sinton’s jaws met with a click. He swallowed hard on 
bitter words and changed what he would have liked to say three 
times before it became articulate. 

“Elnora,” he said at last, “if it hadn’t been for one thing I’d 
have tried to take legal steps to make you ours when you were 
three years old. Maggie said then it wasn’t any use, but I’ve 
always held on. You see, I was the first man there, honey, and 
there are things you see, that you can’t ever make anybody else 
understand. She loved him, Elnora, she just made an idol of him. 
There was that oozy green hole, with the thick scum broke, and 
two or three big bubbles slowly rising that were the breath of his 


12 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

body. There she was in spasms of agony, and beside her the great 
heavy log she’d tried to throw him. I can’t ever forgive her for 
turning against you, and spoiling your childhood as she has, but 
I couldn’t forgive anybody else for abusing her. Maggie has got 
no mercy on her, but Maggie didn’t see what I did, and I’ve never 
tried to make it very clear to her. It’s been a little too plain for 
me ever since. Whenever I look at your mother’s face, I see what 
she saw, so I hold my tongue and say, in my heart, ‘Give her a 
mite more time.’ Some day it will come. She does love you, 
Elnora. Everybody does, honey. It’s just that she’s feeling so 
much, she can’t express herself. You be a patient girl and wait a 
little longer. After all, she’s your mother, and you’re all she’s got, 
but a memory, and it might do her good to let her know that she 
was fooled in that.” 

“It would kill her!” cried the girl swiftly. “Uncle Wesley, it 
would kill her ! What do you mean?” 

“Nothing,” said Wesley Sinton soothingly. “Nothing, honey. 
That was just one of them fool things a man says, when he is try- 
ing his best to be wise. You see, she loved him mightily, and 
they’d been married only a year, and what she was loving was 
what she thought he was. She hadn’t really got acquainted with 
the man yet. If it had been even one more year, she could have 
borne it, and you’d have got justice. Having been a teacher she 
was better educated and smarter than the rest of us, and so she 
was more sensitive like. She can’t understand she was loving a 
dream. So I say it might do her good if somebody that knew, 
could tell her, but I swear to gracious, I never could. I’ve heard 
her out at the edge of that quagmire calling in them wild spells 
of hers off and on for the last sixteen years, and imploring the 
swamp to give him back to her, and I’ve got out of bed when I 
was pretty tired, and come down to see she didn’t go in herself, 
or harm you. What she feels is too deep for me. I’ve got to re- 
spectin’ her grief, and I can’t get over it. Go home and tell your 
ma, honey, and ask her nice and kind to help you. If she won’t, 
then you got to swallow that little lump of pride in your neck, 
and come to Aunt Maggie, like you been a-coming all your 
life.” 


ELNORA GOES TO HIGH SCHOOL Ig 

“I’ll ask mother, but I can’t take your money, Uncle Wesley, 
indeed I can’t. I’ll wait a year, and earn some, and enter next 
year.” 

“There’s one thing you don’t consider, Elnora,” said the man 
earnestly. “And that’s what you are to Maggie. She’s a little like 
your ma. She hasn’t given up to it, and she’s struggling on brave, 
but when we buried our second little girl the light went out of 
Maggie’s eyes, and it’s not come back. The only time I ever see a 
hint of it is when she thinks she’s done something that makes you 
happy, Elnora. Now, you go easy about refusing her anything 
she wants to do for you. There’s times in this world when it’s our 
bounden duty to forget ourselves, and think what will help other 
people. Young woman, you owe me and Maggie all the comfort 
we can get out of you. There’s the two of our own we can’t ever 
do anything for. Don’t you get the idea into your head that a fool 
thing you call pride is going to cut us out of all the pleasure we 
have in life beside ourselves.” 

“Uncle Wesley, you are a dear,” said Elnora. “Just a dear! If 
I can’t possibly get that money any way else on earth, I’ll come 
and boiTow it of you, and then I’ll pay it back if I must dig ferns 
from the swamp and sell them from door to door in the city. I’ll 
even plant them, so that they will be sure to come up in the 
spring. I have been sort of panic-stricken all day and couldn’t 
think. I can gather nuts and sell them. Freckles sold moths and 
butterflies, and I’ve a lot collected. Of course, I am going back 
tomorrow ! I can find a way to get the books. Don’t you worry 
about me. I am all right!” 

“Now, what do you think of that?” inquired Wesley Sinton of 
the swamp in general. “Here’s our Elnora come back to stay. 
Head high and right as a trivet! You’ve named three ways in 
three minutes that you could earn ten dollars, which I figure 
would be enough to start you. Let’s go to supper and stop worry- 
ing!” 

Elnora unlocked the case, took out the pail, put the napkin in 
it, pulled the ribbon from her hair, binding it down tightly again 
and followed to the road. From afar she could see her mother in 
the doorway. She blinked her eyes, and tried to smile as she an- 


14 a GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

swered Wesley Sinton, and indeed she did feel better. She knew 
now what she had to expect, where to go, and what to do. Get 
the books she must; when she had them, she would show those 
city girls and boys how to prepare and recite lessons, how to 
walk with a brave heart; and they could show her how to wear 
pretty clothes and have good times. 

As she neared the door her mother reached for the pail. “I for- 
got to tell you to bring home your scraps for the chickens,” she 
said. 

Elnora entered. “There weren’t any scraps, and I’m hungry 
again as I ever was in my life.” 

“I thought likely you would be,” said Mrs. Comstock, “and 
so I got supper ready. We can eat first, and do the work after- 
ward. What kept you so? I expected you an hour ago.” 

Elnora looked into her mother’s face and smiled. It was a queer 
sort of a little smile, and would have reached the depths with any 
normal mother. 

“I see you’ve been bawling,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I thought 
you’d get your fill in a hurry. That’s why I wouldn’t go to any ex- 
pense. If we keep out of the poorhouse we have to cut the comers 
close. It’s likely this Brushwood road tax will eat up all we’ve 
saved in years. Where the land tax is to come from I don’t know. 
It gets bigger every year. If they are going to dredge the swamp 
ditch again they’ll just have to take the land to pay for it. I can’t, 
that’s all! We’ll get up early in the morning and gather and hull 
the beans for winter, and put in the rest of the day hoeing the 
turnips.” 

Elnora again smiled that pitiful smile. 

“Do you think I didn’t know that I was funny and would be 
laughed at?” she asked. 

“Funny?” cried Mrs. Comstock hotly. 

“Yes, funny! A regular caricature,” answered Elnora. “No 
one else wore calico, not even one other. No one else wore high 
heavy shoes, not even one. No one else had such a funny little 
old hat; my hair was not right, my ribbon invisible compared 
with the others, I did not know where to go, or what to do, and 
I had no books. What a spectacle I made for them!” Elnora 


ELNORA GOES TO HIGH SCHOOL 15 

laughed nervously at her own picture. “But there are always two 
sides! The professor said in the algebra class that he never had 
a better solution and explanation than mine of the proposition he 
gave me, which scored one for me in spite of my clothes.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t brag on myself!” 

“That was poor taste,” admitted Elnora. “But, you see, it is a 
tase of whistling to keep up my courage. I honestly could see that 
I would have looked just as well as the rest of them if I had been 
dressed as they were. We can’t afford that, so I have to find some- 
thing else to brace me. It was rather bad, mother!” 

“Well, I’m glad you got enough of it!” 

“Oh, but I haven’t!” hurried in Elnora. “I just got a start. 
The hardest is over. Tomorrow they won’t be surprised. They 
will know what to expect. I am sorry to hear about the dredge. 
Is it really going through?” 

“Yes. I got my notification today. The tax will be something 
enormous. I don’t know as I can spare you, even if you are willing 
to be a laughing-stock for the town.” 

With every bite Elnora’s courage returned, for she was a 
healthy young thing. 

“You’ve heard about doing evil that good might come from 
it,” she said. “Well, mother mine, it’s something like that with 
me. I’m willing to bear the hard part to pay for what I’ll learn. 
Already I have selected the ward building in which I shall teach 
in about four years. I am going to ask for a room with a south 
exposure so that the flowers and moths I take in from the swamp 
to show the children will do well.” 

“You little idiot!” said Mrs. Comstock. “How are you going 
to pay your expenses?” 

“Now that is just what I was going to ask you !” said Elnora. 
“You see, I have had two startling pieces of news today. I did 
not know I would need any money. I thought the city furnished 
the books, and there is an out-of-town tuition, also. I need ten 
dollars in the morning. Will you please let me have it?” 

“Ten dollars!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “Ten dollars! Why don’t 
you say a hundred and be done with it ! I could get one as easy as 
the other. I told you! I told you I couldn’t raise a cent. Every 


16 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

year expenses grow bigger and bigger. I told you not to ask for 
money!” 

“I never meant to,” replied Elnora. “I thought clothes were 
all I needed and I could bear them. I never knew about buying 
books and tuition.” 

“Well, I did!” said Mrs. Comstock. “I knew what you would 
run into! But you are so bulldog stubborn, and so set in your 
way, I thought I would just let you try the world a little and see 
how you liked it!” 

Elnora pushed back her chair and looked at her mother. 

“Do you mean to say,” she demanded, “that you knew, when 
you let me go into a city classroom and reveal the fact before all 
of them that I expected to have my books handed out to me; 
do you mean to say that you knew I had to pay for them?” 

Mrs. Comstock evaded the direct question. 

“Anybody but an idiot mooning over a book or wasting time 
prowling the woods would have known you had to pay. Every- 
body has to pay for everything. Life is made up of pay, pay, pay ! 
It’s always and forever pay! If you don’t pay one way you do 
another! Of course, I knew you had to pay. Of course, I knew 
you would come home blubbering ! But you don’t get a penny ! I 
haven’t one cent, and can’t get one! Have your way if you are 
determined, but I think you will find the road somewhat rocky.” 

“Swampy, you mean, mother,” corrected Elnora. She arose 
white and trembling. “Perhaps some day God will teach me how 
to understand you. He knows I do not now. You can’t possibly 
realize just what you let me go through today, or how you let 
me go, but I’ll tell you this: You understand enough that if you 
had the money, and would offer it to me, I wouldn’t touch it now. 
And I’ll tell you this much more. I’ll get it myself. I’ll raise it, 
and do it some honest way. I am going back tomorrow, the next 
day, and the next. You need not come out, I’ll do the night work, 
and hoe the turnips.” 

It was ten o’clock when the chickens, pigs, and cattle were 
fed, the turnips hoed, and a heap of bean vines was stacked beside 
the back door. 


CHAPTER II 


Wherein Wesley and Margaret Go 
Shopping, and Elnora’ s Wardrobe 
Is Replenished 


Wesley Sinton walked down the road half a mile and turned 
at the lane leading to his home. His heart was hot and filled with 
indignation. He had told Elnora he did not blame her mother, 
but he did. His wife met him at the door. 

“Did you see anything of Elnora?” she questioned. 

“Most too much, Maggie,” he answered. “What do you say 
to going to town? There’s a few things has to be got right away.” 

“Where did you see her, Wesley?” 

“Along the old Limberlost trail, my girl, tom to pieces sobbing. 
Her courage always has been fine, but the thing she met today 
was too much for her. We ought to have known better than to 
let her go that way. It wasn’t only clothes; there were books, and 
entrance fees for out-of-town people, that she didn’t know about ; 
while there must have been jeers, whispers, and laughing. Maggie, 
I feel as if I’d been a traitor to those girls of ours. I ought to 
have gone in and seen about this school business. Don’t cry, 
Maggie. Get me some supper, and I’ll hitch up and see what we 
can do now.” 

“What can we do, Wesley?” 

“I don’t just know. But we’ve got to do something. Kate Corn- 
stock will be a handful, while Elnora will be two, but between 
us we must see that the girl is not too hard pressed about money, 
and that she is dressed so she is not ridiculous. She’s saved us 


18 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

the wages of a woman many a day, can’t you make her some 
decent dresses?” 

“Well, I’m not just what you call expert, but I could beat Kate 
Comstock all to pieces. I know that skirts should be pleated to the 
band instead of gathered, and full enough to sit in, and short 
enough to walk in. I could try. There are patterns for sale. Let’s 
go right away, Wesley.” 

“Set me a bit of supper, while I hitch up.” 

Margaret built a fire, made coffee, and fried ham and eggs. 
She set out pie and cake and had enough for a hungry man by 
the time the carriage was at the door, but she had no appetite. 
She dressed while Wesley ate, put away the food while he dressed, 
and then they drove toward the city through the beautiful Sep- 
tember evening, and as they went they planned for Elnora. The 
trouble was, not whether they were generous enough to buy what 
she needed, but whether she would accept their purchases, and 
what her mother would say. 

They went to a drygoods store and when a clerk asked what 
they wanted to see neither of them knew, so they stepped aside 
and held a whispered consultation. 

“What had we better get, Wesley?” 

“Dresses,” said Wesley promptly. 

“But how many dresses, and what kind?” 

“Blest if I know!” exclaimed Wesley. “I thought you would 
manage that. I know about some things I’m going to get.” 

At that instant several high school girls came into the store 
and approached them. 

“There!” exclaimed Wesley breathlessly. “There, Maggie! Like 
them! That’s what she needs! Buy like they have!” 

Margaret stared. What did they wear? They were rapidly 
passing; they seemed to have so much, and she could not decide 
so quickly. Before she knew it she was among them. 

“I beg your pardon, but won’t you wait one minute?” she 
asked. 

The girls stopped with wondering faces. 

“It’s your clothes,” explained Mrs. Sinton. “You look just 
beautiful to me. You look exactly as I should have wanted to see 


WESLEY AND MARGARET GO SHOPPING 19 

my girls. They both died of diphtheria when they were little, 
but they had yellow hair, dark eyes and pink cheeks, and every- 
body thought they were lovely. If they had lived, they’d been near 
your age now, and I’d want them to look like you.” 

There was sympathy on every girl face. 

“Why thank you!” said one of them. “We are very sorry for 
you.” 

“Of course you are,” said Margaret. “Everybody always has 
been. And because I can’t ever have the joy of a mother in think- 
ing for my girls and buying pretty things for them, there is 
nothing left for me, but to do what I can for someone who has 
no mother to care for her. I know a girl, who would be just as 
pretty as any of you, if she had the clothes, but her mother does 
not think about her, so I mother her some myself.” 

“She must be a lucky girl,” said another. 

“Oh, she loves me,” said Margaret, “and I love her. I want 
her to look just like you do. Please tell me about your clothes. 
Are these the dresses and hats you wear to school? What kind of 
goods are they, and where do you buy them?” 

The girls began to laugh and cluster around Margaret. Wesley 
strode down the store with his head high through pride in her, 
but his heart was sore over the memory of two little faces 
under Brushwood sod. He inquired his way to the shoe depart- 
ment. 

“Why, every one of us have on gingham or linen dresses,” they 
said, “and they are our school clothes.” 

For a few moments there was a babel of laughing voices ex- 
plaining to the delighted Margaret that school dresses should be 
bright and pretty, but simple and plain, and until cold weather 
they should wash. 

“I’ll tell you,” said Ellen Brownlee, “my father owns this store, 
I know all the clerks. I’ll take you to Miss Hartley. You tell 
her just how much you want to spend, and what you want to buy, 
and she will know how to get the most for your money. I’ve heard 
papa say she was the best clerk in the store for people who didn’t 
know precisely what they wanted.” 

“That’s the very thing,” agreed Margaret. “But before you go. 


20 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

tell me about your hair. Elnora’s hair is bright and wavy, but 
yours is silky as hackled flax. How do you do it?” 

“Elnora?” asked four girls in concert. 

“Yes, Elnora is the name of the girl I want these things for.” 

“Did she come to the high school today?” questioned one of 
them. 

“Was she in your classes?” demanded Margaret without reply. 

Four girls stood silent and thought fast. Had there been a 
strange girl among them, and had she been overlooked and passed 
by with indifference, because she was so very shabby? If she 
had appeared as much better than they, as she had looked worse, 
would her reception have been the same? 

“There was a strange girl from the country in the Freshman 
class today,” said Ellen Brownlee, “and her name was Elnora.” 

“That was the girl,” said Margaret. 

“Are her people so very poor?” questioned Ellen. 

“No, not poor at all, come to think of it,” answered Margaret. 
“It’s a peculiar case. Mrs. Comstock had a great trouble and she 
let it change her whole life and make a different woman of her. 
She used to be lovely; now she is forever saving and scared to 
death for fear they will go to the poorhouse; but there is a big 
farm, covered with lots of good timber. The taxes are high for 
women who can’t manage to clear and work the land. There 
ought to be enough to keep two of them in good shape all their 
lives, if they only knew how to do it. But no one ever told Kate 
Comstock anything, and never will, for she won’t listen. All she 
does is droop all day, and walk the edge of the swamp half the 
night, and neglect Elnora. If you girls would make life just a little 
easier for her it would be the finest thing you ever did.” 

All of them promised they would. 

“Now tell me about your hair,” persisted Margaret Sinton. 

So they took her to a toilet counter, and she bought the proper 
hair soap, also a nail file, and cold cream, for use after windy days. 
Then they left her with the experienced clerk, and when at last 
Wesley found her she was loaded with bundles and the light of 
other days was in her beautiful eyes. Wesley also carried some 
packages. 


21 


WESLEY AND MARGARET GO SHOPPING 

“Did you get any stockings? 5 ' he whispered. 

“No, I didn’t , 55 she said. “I was so interested in dresses and 

hair ribbons and a — a hat 55 she hesitated and glanced at 

Wesley. “Of course, a hat ! 55 prompted Wesley. “ — that I forgot 
all about those horrible shoes. She’s got to have decent shoes, Wes- 
ley . 55 

“Sure ! 55 said Wesley. “She 5 s got decent shoes. But the man 
said some brown stockings ought to go with them. Take a peep, 
will you ! 55 

Wesley opened a box and displayed a pair of thick-soled, 
beautifully shaped brown walking shoes of low cut. Margaret 
cried out with pleasure. 

“But do you suppose they are the right size, Wesley? What 
did you get ? 55 

“I just said for a girl of sixteen with a slender foot . 55 

“Well, that’s about as near as I could come. If they don’t fit 
when she tries them, we will drive straight in and change them. 
Come on now, let’s get home . 55 

All the way they discussed how they should give Elnora their 
purchases and what Mrs. Comstock would say. 

“I am afraid she will be awful mad,” said Margaret. 

“She’ll just rip!” replied Wesley graphically. “But if she wants 
to leave the raising of her girl to the neighbors, she needn’t get 
fractious if they take some pride in doing a good job. From now 
on I calculate Elnora shall go to school ; and she shall have all the 
clothes and books she needs, if I go around on the back of Kate 
Comstock’s land and cut a tree, or drive off a calf to pay for 
them. Why I know one tree she owns that would put Elnora in 
heaven for a year. Just think of it, Margaret! It’s not fair. One- 
third of what is there belongs to Elnora by law, and if Kate 
Comstock raises a row I’ll tell her so, and see that the girl gets 
it. You go to see Kate in the morning, and I’ll go with you. Tell 
her you want Elnora’s pattern, that you are going to make her 
a dress, for helping us. And sort of hint at a few more things. If 
Kate balks, I’ll take a hand and settle her. I’ll go to law for 
Elnora’s share of that land and sell enough to educate her.” 

“Why, Wesley Sinton, you’re perfectly wild.” 


22 


A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 


“Pm not! Did you ever stop to think that such cases are so 
frequent there have been laws made to provide for them? I can 
bring it up in court and force Kate to educate Elnora, and 
board and clothe her till she’s of age, and then she can take her 
share.” 

“Wesley, Kate would go crazy!” 

“She’s crazy now. The idea of any mother living with as sweet 
a girl as Elnora, and letting her suffer till I find her crying like 
a funeral. It makes me fighting mad. All uncalled for. Not a grain 
of sense in it. I’ve offered and offered to oversee clearing her 
land and working her fields. Let her sell a good tree, or a few 
acres. Something is going to be done, right now. Elnora’s been 
fairly happy up to this, but to spoil the school life she’s planned, 
is to ruin all her life. I won’t have it ! If Elnora won’t take these 
things, so help me, I’ll tell her what she is worth, and loan her 
the money and she can pay me back when she comes of age. I am 
going to have it out with Kate Comstock in the morning. Here 
we are! You open up what you got while I put away the horses, 
and then I’ll show you.” 

When Wesley came from the bam Margaret had four pieces of 
crisp gingham, a pale blue, a pink, a gray with green stripes and 
a rich brown and blue plaid. On each of them lay a yard and a 
half of wide ribbon to match. There were handkerchiefs and a 
brown leather belt. In her hands she held a wide-brimmed tan 
straw hat, having a high crown banded with velvet strips each of 
which fastened with a tiny gold buckle. 

“It looks kind of bare now,” she explained. “It had three quills 
on it here.” 

“Did you have them taken off?” asked Wesley. 

“Yes, I did. The price was two and a half for the hat, and those 
things were a dollar and a half apiece. I couldn’t pay that.” 

“It does seem considerable,” admitted Wesley, “but will it 
look right without them?” 

“No, it won’t!” said Margaret. “It’s going to have quills on it. 
Do you remember those beautiful peacock wing feathers that 
Phoebe Simms gave me? Three of them go on just where those 
came off, and nobody will ever know the difference. They match 


WESLEY AND MARGARET GO SHOPPING 23 

the hat to a moral, and they are just a little longer and richer than 
the ones that I had taken off. I was wondering whether I better 
sew them on tonight while I remember how they set, or wait till 
morning.” 

“Don’t risk it!” exclaimed Wesley anxiously. “Don’t you risk 
it! Sew them on right now !” 

“Open your bundles, while I get the thread,” said Margaret. 

Wesley unwrapped the shoes. Margaret took them up and 
pinched the leather and stroked them. 

“My, but they are fine!” she cried. 

Wesley picked up one and slowly turned it in his big hands. 
He glanced at his foot and back to the shoe. 

“It’s a little bit of a thing, Margaret,” he said softly. “Like 
as not I’ll have to take it back. It seems as if it couldn’t fit.” 

“It seems as if it didn’t dare do anything else,” said Margaret. 
“That’s a happy little shoe to get the chance to carry as fine a 
girl as Elnora to high school. Now what’s in the other box?” 

Wesley looked at Margaret doubtfully. 

“Why,” he said, “you know there’s going to be rainy days, 
and those things she has now ain’t fit for anything but to drive 
up the cows ” 

“Wesley, did you get high shoes, too?” 

“Well, she ought to have them! The man said he would make 
them cheaper if I took both pairs at once.” 

Margaret laughed aloud. “Those will do her past Christmas,” 
she exulted. “What else did you buy?” 

“Well sir,” said Wesley, “I saw something today. You told 
me about Kate getting that tin pail for Elnora to carry to high 
school and you said you told her it was a shame. I guess Elnora 
was ashamed all right, for tonight she stopped at the old case 
Duncan gave her, and took out that pail, where it had been all 
day, and put a napkin inside it. Coming home she confessed she 
was half starved because she hid her dinner under a culvert, 
and a tramp took it. She hadn’t had a bite to eat the whole day. 
But she never complained at all, she was pleased that she hadn’t 
lost the napkin. So I just inquired around till I found this, and 
I think it’s about the ticket.” 


24 a GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

Wesley opened the package and laid a brown leather lunch 
box on the table. “Might be a couple of books, or drawing tools 
or most anything that’s neat and genteel. You see, it opens this 
way.” 

It did open, and inside was a space for sandwiches, a little 
porcelain box for cold meat or fried chicken, another for salad, 
a glass with a lid which screwed on, held by a ring in a comer, 
for custard or jelly, a flask for tea or milk, a beautiful little knife, 
fork, and spoon fastened in holders, and a place for a napkin. 

Margaret was almost crying over it. 

“How I’d love to fill it!” she exclaimed. 

“Do it the first time, just to show Kate Comstock what love is !” 
said Wesley. “Get up early in the morning and make one of 
those dresses tomorrow. Can’t you make a plain gingham dress 
in a day? I’ll pick a chicken, and you fry it and fix a little cus- 
tard for the cup, and do it up brown. Go on, Maggie, you do it !” 

“I never can,” said Margaret. “I am slow as the itch about 
sewing, and these are not going to be plain dresses when it 
comes to making them. There are going to be edgings of plain, 
green, pink, and brown to the bias strips, and tucks and pleats 
around the hips, fancy belts and collars, and all of it takes time.” 

“Then Kate Comstock’s got to help,” said Wesley. “Can the 
two of you make one, and get that lunch tomorrow?” 

“Easy, but she’ll never do it!” 

“You see if she doesn’t!” said Wesley. “You get up and 
cut it out, and soon as Elnora is gone I’ll go after Kate myself. 
She’ll take what I’ll say better alone. But she’ll come, and she’ll 
help make the dress. These other things are our Christmas gifts to 
Elnora. She’ll no doubt need them more now than she will then, 
and we can give them just as well. That’s yours, and this is mine, 
or whichever way you choose.” 

Wesley untied a good brown umbrella and shook out the 
folds of a long, brown raincoat. Margaret dropped the hat, 
arose and took the coat. She tried it on, felt it, cooed over it and 
matched it with the umbrella. 

“Did it look anything like rain tonight?” she inquired so 
anxiously that Wesley laughed. 


WESLEY AND MARGARET GO SHOPPING 25 

“And this last bundle?” she said, dropping back in her chair, 
the coat still over her shoulders. 

“I couldn’t buy this much stuff for any other woman and 
nothing for my own,” said Wesley. “It’s Christmas for you, too, 
Margaret!” He shook out fold after fold of soft gray satiny goods 
that would look lovely against Margaret’s pink cheeks and whiten- 
ing hair. 

“Oh, you old darling!” she exclaimed, and fled sobbing into 
his arms. 

But she soon dried her eyes, raked together the coals in the 
cooking stove and boiled one of the dress patterns in salt water for 
half an hour. W esley held the lamp while she hung the goods on 
the line to dry. Then she set the irons on the stove so they would 
be hot the first thing in the morning. 


CHAPTER III 


Wherein Elnora Visits the Bird Woman 
and Opens a Bank Account 


At pour o’clock the following morning Elnora was shelling beans. 
At six she fed the chickens and pigs, swept two of the rooms of the 
cabin, built a fire, and put on the kettle for breakfast. Then she 
climbed the narrow stairs to the attic she had occupied since 
a very small child, and dressed in the hated shoes and brown 
calico, plastered down her crisp curls, ate what breakfast she 
could, and pinning on her hat, started for town. 

“There is no sense in your going for an hour yet,” said her 
mother. 

“I must try to discover some way to earn those books,” replied 
Elnora. “I am perfectly positive I shall not find them lying beside 
the road wrapped in tissue paper, and tagged with my name.” 

She went toward the city as on yesterday. Her perplexity as 
to where tuition and books were to come from was worse but she 
did not feel quite so badly. She never again would have to face 
all of it for the first time. There had been times yesterday when 
she had prayed to be hidden, or to drop dead, and neither had 
happened. “I believe the best way to get an answer to prayer is 
to work for it,” muttered Elnora grimly. 

Again she followed the trail to the swamp, rearranged her hair 
and left the tin pail. This time she folded a couple of sandwiches 
in the napkin, and tied them in a neat light paper parcel which 
she carried in her hand. Then she hurried along the road to 
Onabasha and found a bookstore. There she asked the prices of 
the list of books that she needed, and learned that six dollars 


ELNORA VISITS THE BIRD WOMAN 27 

would not quite supply them. She anxiously inquired for second- 
hand books, but was told that the only way to secure them was 
from the last year’s Freshmen. Just then Elnora felt that she 
positively could not approach any of those she supposed to be 
Sophomores and ask to buy their old books. The only balm the 
girl could see for the humiliation of yesterday was to appear that 
day with a set of new books. 

“Do you wish these?” asked the clerk hurriedly, for the store 
was rapidly filling with school children wanting anything from 
a dictionary to a pen. 

“Yes,” gasped Elnora, “Oh, yes! But I cannot pay for them 
just now. Please let me take them, and I will pay for them on 
Friday, or return them as perfect as they are. Please trust me 
for them a few days.” 

“I’ll ask the proprietor,” he said. When he came back Elnora 
knew the answer before he spoke. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, “but Mr. Hann doesn’t recognize your 
name. You are not a customer of ours, and he feels that he can’t 
take the risk.” 

Elnora clumped out of the store, the thump of her heavy shoes 
beating as a hammer on her brain. She tried two other dealers with 
the same result, and then in sick despair came into the street. 
What could she do? She was too frightened to think. Should she 
stay from school that day and canvass the homes appearing to 
belong to the wealthy, and try to sell beds of wild ferns, as she 
had suggested to Wesley Sinton? What would she dare ask for 
bringing in and planting a clump of ferns? How could she carry 
them? Would people buy them? She slowly moved past the hotel 
and then glanced around to see if there were a clock anywhere, 
for she felt sure the young people passing her constantly were on 
their way to school. 

There it stood in a bank window in big black letters staring 
straight at her: 


wanted: caterpillars, cocoons, chrysalides. 

PUPAE CASES. BUTTERFLIES. MOTHS. INDIAN RELICS 
OF ALL KINDS. HIGHEST SCALE OF PRICES PAID IN CASH 



28 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

Elnora caught the wicket at the cashier’s desk with both hands 
to brace herself against disappointment. 

“Who is it wants to buy cocoons, butterflies, and moths?” she 
panted. 

“The Bird Woman,” answered the cashier. “Have you some for 
sale?” 

“I have some, I do not know if they are what she would want.” 

“Well, you had better see her,” said the cashier. “Do you know 
where she lives?” 

“Yes,” said Elnora. “Would you tell me the time?” 

“Twenty-one after eight,” was the answer. 

She had nine minutes to reach the auditorium or be late. 
Should she go to school, or to the Bird Woman? Several girls 
passed her walking swiftly and she remembered their faces. They 
were hurrying to school. Elnora caught the infection. She would 
see the Bird Woman at noon. Algebra came first, and that pro- 
fessor was kind. Perhaps she could slip to the superintendent and 
ask him for a book for the next lesson, and at noon — “Oh, dear 
Lord, make it come true,” prayed Elnora, at noon possibly she 
could sell some of those wonderful shining-winged things she 
had been collecting all her life around the outskirts of the Lim- 
berlost. 

As she went down the long hall she noticed the professor of 
mathematics standing in the door of his recitation room. When 
she passed him he smiled and spoke to her. 

“I have been watching for you,” he said, and Elnora stopped 
bewildered. 

“For me?” she questioned. 

“Yes,” said Professor Henley. “Step inside.” 

Elnora followed him into the room and closed the door be- 
hind them. 

“At teachers’ meeting last evening, one of the professors men- 
tioned that a pupil had betrayed in class that she had expected 
her books to be furnished by the city. I thought possibly it was 
you. Was it?” 

“Yes,” breathed Elnora. 

“That being the case,” said Professor Henley, “it just occurred 


ELNORA VISITS THE BIRD WOMAN 29 

to me as you had expected that, you might require a little time to 
secure them, and you are too fine a mathematician to fall behind 
for want of supplies. So I telephoned one of our Sophomores to 
bring her last year’s books this morning. I am sorry to say they are 
somewhat abused, but the text is all here. You can have them for 
two dollars, and pay when you are ready. Would you care to 
take them?” 

Elnora sat suddenly, because she could not stand another in- 
stant. She reached both hands for the books, and said never 
a word. The professor was silent also. At last Elnora arose, hug- 
ging those books to her heart as a mother clasps a baby. 

“One thing more,” said the professor. “You may pay your tui- 
tion quarterly. You need not bother about the first installment this 
month. Any time in October will do.” 

It seemed as if Elnora’s gasp of relief must have reached the 
soles of her brogans. 

“Did anyone ever tell you how beautiful you are!” she cried. 

As the professor was lank, tow-haired and so nearsighted 
that he peered at his pupils through spectacles, no one ever had. 

“No,” said Professor Henley, “I’ve waited some time for that; 
for which reason I shall appreciate it all the more. Come now, 
or we shall be late for opening exercises.” 

So Elnora entered the auditorium a second time. Her face 
was like the brightest dawn that ever broke over the Limberlost. 
No matter about the lumbering shoes and skimpy dress. No matter 
about anything, she had the books. She could take them home. 
In her garret she could commit them to memory, if need be. She 
could prove that clothes were not all. If the Bird Woman did 
not want any of the many different kinds of specimens she had 
collected, she was quite sure now she could sell ferns, nuts, and 
a great many things. Then, too, a girl made a place for her that 
morning, and several smiled and bowed. Elnora forgot every- 
thing save her books, and that she was where she could use them 
intelligently — everything except one little thing away back in her 
head. Her mother had known about the books and the tuition, 
and had not told her when she agreed to her coming. 

At noon Elnora took her little parcel of lunch and started to 


30 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

the home of the Bird Woman. She must know about the speci- 
mens first and then she would walk to the suburbs somewhere and 
eat a few bites. She dropped the heavy iron knocker on the door 
of a big red log cabin, and her heart thumped at the resounding 
stroke. 

“Is the Bird Woman at home?” she asked of the maid. 

“She is at lunch,” was the answer. 

“Please ask her if she will see a girl from the Limberlost about 
some moths?” inquired Elnora. 

“I never need ask, if it’s moths,” laughed the girl. “Orders 
are to bring anyone with specimens right in. Gome this way.” 

Elnora followed down the hall and entered a long room with 
high paneled wainscoting, old English fireplace with an over- 
mantel and closets of peculiar china filling the comers. At a bare 
table of oak, yellow as gold, sat a woman Elnora often had 
watched and followed covertly around the Limberlost. The Bird 
Woman was holding out a hand of welcome. 

“I heard!” she laughed. “A little pasteboard box, or just the 
mere word ‘specimen,’ passes you at my door. If it is moths I hope 
you have hundreds. I’ve been very busy all summer and unable 
to collect, and I need so many. Sit down and lunch with me, 
while we talk it over. From the Limberlost, did you say?” 

“I live near the swamp,” replied Elnora. “Since it’s so cleared 
I dare go around the edge in daytime, though we are all afraid at 
night.” 

“What have you collected?” asked the Bird Woman, as she 
helped Elnora to sandwiches unlike any she ever before had 
tasted, salad that seemed to be made of many familiar things, and 
a cup of hot chocolate that would have delighted any hungry 
schoolgirl. 

“I am afraid I am bothering you for nothing, and imposing on 
you,” she said. “That ‘collected’ frightens me. I’ve only gathered. 
I always loved everything outdoors, so I made friends and play- 
mates of them. When I learned that the moths die so soon, I 
saved them especially, because there seemed no wickedness in it.” 

“I have thought the same thing,” said the Bird Woman en- 
couragingly. Then because the girl could not eat until she learned 


ELNORA VISITS THE BIRD WOMAN 31 

about the moths, the Bird Woman asked Elnora if she knew what 
kinds she had. 

“Not all of them,” answered Elnora. “Before Mr. Duncan 
moved away he often saw me near the edge of the swamp and 
he showed me the box he had fixed for Freckles, and gave me the 
key. There were some books and things, so from that time on I 
studied and tried to take moths right, but I am afraid they are 
not what you want.” 

“Are they the big ones that fly mostly in June nights?” asked 
the Bird Woman. 

“Yes,” said Elnora. “Big gray ones with reddish markings, 
pale blue-green, yellow with lavender, and red and yellow.” 

“What do you mean by Ted and yellow’?” asked the Bird 
Woman so quickly that the girl almost jumped. 

“Not exactly red,” explained Elnora, with tremulous voice. “A 
reddish, yellowish brown, with canary-colored spots and gray 
lines on their wings.” 

“How many of them?” It was the same quick question. 

“I had over two hundred eggs,” said Elnora, “but some of 
them didn’t hatch, and some of the caterpillars died, but there 
must be at least a hundred perfect ones.” 

“Perfect! How perfect?” cried the Bird Woman. 

“I mean whole wings, no down gone, and all their legs and 
antennae,” faltered Elnora. 

“Young woman, that’s the rarest moth in America,” said the 
Bird Woman solemnly. “If you have a hundred of them, they are 
worth a hundred dollars according to my list. I can use all that 
are not damaged.” 

“What if they are not pinned right,” quavered Elnora. 

“If they are perfect, that does not make the slightest difference. 
I know how to soften them so that I can put them into any shape 
I choose. Where are they? When may I see them?” 

“They are in Freckles’s old case in the Limberlost,” said 
Elnora. “I couldn’t carry many for fear of breaking them, but 
I could bring a few after school.” 

“You come here at four,” said the Bird Woman, “and we will 
drive out with some specimen boxes, and a price list, and see what 


J 


32 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

you have to sell. Are they your very own? Are you free to part 
with them?” 

“They are mine,” said Elnora. “No one but God knows I have 
them. Mr. Duncan gave me the books and the box. He told 
Freckles about me, and Freckles told him to give me all he left. 
He said for me to stick to the swamp and be brave, and my hour 
would come, and it has ! I know most of them are all right, and 
oh, I do need the money!” 

“Could you tell me?” asked the Bird Woman softly. 

“You see the swamp and all the fields around it are so full,” 
explained Elnora. “Every day I felt smaller and smaller, and I 
wanted to know more and more, and pretty soon I grew desper- 
ate, just as Freckles did. But I am better off than he was, for I have 
his books, and I have a mother; even if she doesn’t care for me 
as other girls’ mothers do for them, it’s better than no one.” 

The Bird Woman’s glance fell, for the girl was not conscious of 
how much she was revealing. Her eyes were fixed on a black 
pitcher filled with goldenrod in the center of the table and she 
was saying what she thought. 

“As long as I could go to the Brushwood school I was happy, 
but I couldn’t go further just when things were the most interest- 
ing, so I was determined I’d come to high school and mother 
wouldn’t consent. You see there’s plenty of land, but father 
was drowned when I was a baby, and mother and I can’t make 
money as men do. The taxes are higher every year, and she said 
it was too expensive. I wouldn’t give her any rest, until at last 
she bought me this dress, and these shoes and I came. It was 
awful !” 

“Do you live in that beautiful cabin at the northwest end of 
the swamp?” asked the Bird Woman. 

“Yes,” said Elnora. 

“I remember the place and a story about it, now. You entered 
the high school yesterday?” 

“Yes.” 

“It was rather bad?” 

“Rather bad!” echoed Elnora. 

The Bird Woman laughed 


ELNORA VISITS THE BIRD WOMAN 33 

“You can’t tell me anything about that,” she said. “I once 
entered a city school straight from the country. My dress was 
brown calico, and my shoes were heavy.” 

The tears began to roll down Elnora’s cheeks. 

“Did they ?” she faltered. 

“They did!” said the Bird Woman. “All of it. I am sure they 
did not miss one least little thing.” 

Then she wiped away some tears that began coursing her 
cheeks, and laughed at the same time. 

“Where are they now?” asked Elnora suddenly. 

“They are widely scattered, but none of them have attained 
heights out of range. Some of the rich are poor, and some of the 
poor are rich. Some of the brightest died insane, and some of the 
dullest worked out high positions ; some of the very worst to bear 
have gone out, and I frequently hear from others. Now I am 
here, able to remember it, and mingle laughter with what used 
to be all tears ; for every day I have my beautiful work, and almost 
every day God sends someone like you to help me. What is 
your name, .my girl?” 

* “Elnora Comstock,” answered Elnora. “Yesterday on the board 
it changed to Comstock, and for a minute I thought I’d die, 
but I can laugh over that already.” 

The Bird Woman arose and kissed her. “Finish your lunch,” 
she said, “and I will bring my price lists, and make a memoran- 
dum of what you think you have, so I will know how many boxes 
to prepare. And remember this : What you are lies with you. If 
you are lazy, and accept your lot, you may live in it. If you are 
willing to work, you can write your name anywhere you choose, 
among the only ones who live beyond the grave in this world, 
the people who write books that help, make exquisite music, 
carve statues, paint pictures, and work for others. Never mind 
the calico dress, and the coarse shoes. Work at your books, and 
before long you will hear yesterday’s tormentors boasting that 
they were once classmates of yours. ‘I could a tale unfold’ !” 

She laughingly left the room and Elnora sat thinking, until 
she remembered how hungry she was, so she ate the food, drank 
the hot chocolate and began to feel better. 


34 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

Then the Bird Woman came back and showed Elnora a long 
printed slip giving a list of graduated prices for moths, butter- 
flies, and dragonflies. 

“Oh, do you want them!” exulted Elnora. “I have a few 
and I can get more by the thousand, with every color in the 
world on their wings.” 

“Yes,” said the Bird Woman, “I will buy them, also the big 
moth caterpillars that are creeping everywhere now, and the 
cocoons that they will spin just about this time. I have a sneaking 
impression that the mystery, wonder, and the urge of their pure 
beauty, are going to force me to picture and paint our moths and 
put them into a book for all the world to see and know. We 
Limberlost people must not be selfish with the wonders God has 
given to us. We must share with those poor cooped-up city people 
the best we can. To send them a beautiful book, that is the way, 
is it not, little new friend of mine?” 

“Yes, oh yes!” cried Elnora. “And please God they find a 
way to earn the money to buy the books, as I have those I need so 
badly.” 

“I will pay good prices for all the moths you can find,” said 
the Bird Woman, “because you see I exchange them with foreign 
collectors. I want a complete series of the moths of America to 
trade with a German scientist, another with a man in India, and 
another in Brazil. Others I can exchange with home collectors 
for those of California and Canada, so you see I can use all you 
can raise, or find. The banker will buy stone axes, arrow points, 
and Indian pipes. There was a teacher from the city grade schools 
here today for specimens. There is a fund to supply the ward 
buildings. I’ll help you get in touch with that. They want leaves of 
different trees, flowers, grasses, moths, insects, birds’ nests and 
anything about birds.” 

Elnora’s eyes were blazing. “Had I better go back to school or 
open a bank account and begin being a millionaire? Uncle Wesley 
and I have a bushel of arrow points gathered, a stack of axes, 
pipes, skin-dressing tools, tubes and mortars. I don’t know how I 
ever shall wait three hours.” 


ELNORA VISITS THE BIRD WOMAN 35 

“You must go, or you will be late,” said the Bird Woman. “I 
will be ready at four.” 

After school closed Elnora, seated beside the Bird Woman, 
drove to Freckles’s room in the Limberlost. One at a time the 
beautiful big moths were taken from the interior of the old black 
case. Not a fourth of them could be moved that night and it was 
almost dark when the last box was closed, the list figured, and 
into Elnora’s trembling fingers were paid fifty-nine dollars and 
sixteen cents. Elnora clasped the money closely. 

“Oh, you beautiful stuff !” she cried. “You are going to buy the 
books, pay the tuition, and take me to high school.” 

Then because she was a woman, she sat on a log and looked at 
her shoes. Long after the Bird Woman drove away Elnora re- 
mained. She had her problem, and it was a big one. If she told 
her mother, would she take the money to pay the taxes? If she 
did not tell her, how could she account for the books, and things 
for which she would spend it. At last she counted out what she 
needed for the next day, placed the remainder in the farthest 
corner of the case, and locked the door. She then filled the front 
of her skirt from a heap of arrow points beneath the case and 
started home. 


CHAPTER IV 


Wherein the Sintons Are Disappointed, 
and Mrs. Comstock Learns That She 



With the first streak of red above the Limberlost, Margaret 
Sinton was busy with the gingham and the intricate paper 
pattern she had purchased. Wesley cooked the breakfast and 
worked until he thought Elnora would be gone, then he started 
to bring her mother. 

“Now you be mighty careful / 5 cautioned Margaret. “I don’t 
know how she will take it.” 

“I don’t either,” said Wesley philosophically, “but she’s got to 
take it some way. That dress has to be finished by school time 
in the morning.” 

Wesley had not slept well that night. He had been so busy 
framing diplomatic speeches to make to Mrs. Comstock that 
sleep had little chance with him. Every step nearer to her he 
approached his position seemed less enviable. By the time he 
reached the front gate and started down the walk between the 
rows of asters and lady slippers he was perspiring, and every 
plausible and convincing speech had fled his brain. Mrs. Com- 
stock helped him. She met him at the door. 

“Good morning,” she said. “Did Margaret send you for some- 


thing?” 


“Yes,” said Wesley. “She’s got a job that’s too big for her, and 
she wants you to help.” 

“Of course I will,” said Mrs. Comstock. It was no one’s affair 


THE SIN TONS ARE DISAPPOINTED 37 

how lonely the previous day had been, or how the endless hours 
of the present would drag. “What is she doing in such a rush?” 

Now was his chance. 

“She’s making a dress for Elnora,” answered Wesley. He saw 
Mrs. Comstock’s form straighten, and her face harden, so he con- 
tinued hastily. “You see, Elnora has been helping us at harvest 
time, butchering, and with unexpected visitors for years. We’ve 
made out that she’s saved us a considerable sum, and as she 
wouldn’t ever touch any pay for anything, we just went to town 
and got a few clothes we thought would fix her up a little for the 
high school. We want to get a dress done today mighty bad, but 
Margaret is slow about sewing, and she never can finish alone, so 
I came after you.” 

“And it’s such a simple little matter, so dead easy, and all so be- 
tween old friends like, that you can’t look above your boots while 
you explain it,” sneered Mrs. Comstock. “Wesley Sinton, what 
put the idea into your head that Elnora would take things bought 
with money, when she wouldn’t take the money?” 

Then Sinton’s eyes came up straightly. 

“Finding her on the trail last night sobbing as hard as I ever 
saw anyone at a funeral. She wasn’t complaining at all, but she’s 
come to me all her life with her little hurts, and she couldn’t hide 
how she’d been laughed at, twitted, and run face to face against 
the fact that there were books and tuition, unexpected, and noth- 
ing will ever make me believe you didn’t know that, Kate Com- 
stock.” 

“If any doubts are troubling you on that subject, sure I knew 
it ! She was so anxious to try the world, I thought I’d just let her 
take a few knocks and see how she liked them.” 

“As if she’d ever taken anything but knocks all her life!” cried 
Wesley Sinton. “Kate Comstock, you are a heartless, selfish 
woman. You’ve never shown Elnora any real love in her life. If 
ever she finds out that thing you’ll lose her, and it will serve you 
right.” 

“She knows it now,” said Mrs. Comstock icily, “and she’ll be 
home tonight just as usual.” 

“Well, you are a brave woman if you dared put a girl of 


38 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

Elnora’s make through what she suffered yesterday, and will 
suffer again today, and let her know you did it on purpose. I 
admire your nerve. But I’ve watched this since Elnora was bom, 
and I got enough. Things have come to a pass where they go 
better for her, or I interfere.” 

“As if you’d ever done anything but interfere all her life ! Think 
I haven’t watched you? Think I, with my heart raw in my breast, 
and too numb to resent it openly, haven’t seen you and Mag 
Sinton trying to turn Elnora against me day after day? When did 
you ever tell her what her father meant to me? When did you 
ever try to make her see the wreck of my life, and what I’ve 
suffered? No indeed! Always it’s been poor little abused Elnora, 
and cakes, kissing, extra clothes, and encouraging her to run to 
you with a pitiful mouth every time I tried to make a woman of 
her.” 

“Kate Comstock, that’s unjust,” cried Sinton. “Only last night 
I tried to show her the picture I saw the day she was bom. I 
begged her to come to you and tell you pleasant what she needed, 
and ask you for what I happen to know you can well afford to 
give her.” 

“I can’t!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “You know I can’t!” 

“Then get so you can!” said Wesley Sinton. “Any day you say 
the word you can sell six thousand worth of rare timber off this 
place easy. I’ll see to clearing and working the fields cheap as dirt, 
for Elnora’s sake. I’ll buy you more cattle to fatten. All you’ve got 
to do is sign a lease, to pull thousands from the ground in oil, as 
the rest of us are doing all around you!” 

“Cut down Robert’s trees!” shrieked Mrs. Comstock. “Tear 
up his land! Cover everything with horrid, greasy oil! I’ll die 
first.” 

“You mean you’ll let Elnora go like a beggar, and hurt and 
mortify her past bearing. I’ve got to the place where I tell you 
plain what I am going to do. Maggie and I went to town last 
night, and we bought what things Elnora needs most urgent to 
make her look a little like the rest of the high school girls. Now 
here it is in plain English. You can help get these things ready, 
and let us give them to her as we want ” 


THE SINTONS ARE DISAPPOINTED 39 

“She won’t touch them !” cried Mrs. Comstock. 

“Then you can pay us, and she can take them as her right ” 

“I won’t!” 

“Then I will tell Elnora just what you are worth, what you can 
afford, and how much of this she owns. I’ll loan her the money 
to buy books and decent clothes, and when she is of age she can 
sell her share and pay me.” 

Mrs. Comstock gripped a chair-back and opened her lips, but 
no words came. 

“And,” Sinton continued, “if she is so much like you that she 
won’t do that, I’ll go to the county seat and lay complaint against 
you as her guardian before the judge. I’ll swear to what you are 
worth, and how you are raising her, and have you discharged, 
or have the judge appoint some man who will see that she is com- 
fortable, educated, and decent looking!” 

“You — you wouldn’t!” gasped Kate Comstock. 

“I won’t need to, Kate!” said Sinton, his heart softening the 
instant the hard words were said. “You won’t show it, but you do 
iove Elnora! You can’t help it! You must see how she needs 
things; come help us fix them, and be friends. Maggie and I 
couldn’t live without her, and you couldn’t either. You’ve got to 
love such a fine girl as she is; let it show a little!” 

“You can hardly expect me to love her,” said Mrs. Comstock 
coldly. “But for her a man would stand back of me now, who 
would beat the breath out of your sneaking body for the cowardly 
thing with which you threaten me. After all I’ve suffered you’d 
drag me to court and compel me to tear up Robert’s property. 
If I ever go they carry me. If they touch one tree, or put down one 
greasy old oil well, it will be over all I can shoot, before they be- 
gin. Now, see how quick you can clear out of here!” 

“You won’t come and help Maggie with the dress?” 

For answer Mrs. Comstock looked around swiftly for some ob- 
ject on which to lay her hands. Knowing her temper, Wesley 
Sinton left with all the haste consistent with dignity. But he 
did not go home. He crossed a field, and in an hour brought 
another neighbor who was skillful with her needle. With sink- 
ing heart Margaret saw them coming. 


40 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

“Kate is too busy to help today, she can’t sew before to- 
morrow,” said Wesley cheerfully as they entered. 

That quieted Margaret’s apprehension a little, though she had 
some doubts. Wesley prepared the lunch, and by four o’clock 
the dress was finished as far as it possibly could be until it was 
fitted on Elnora. If that did not entail too much work, it could 
be completed in two hours. 

Then Margaret packed their purchases into the big market 
basket. Wesley took the hat, umbrella, and raincoat, and they 
went to Mrs. Comstock’s. As they reached the step, Margaret 
spoke pleasantly to Mrs. Comstock, who sat reading just inside the 
door, but she did not answer and deliberately turned a leaf with- 
out looking up. 

Wesley Sint on opened the door and went in followed by 
Margaret. 

“Kate,” he said, “you needn’t take out your mad over our 
little racket on Maggie. I ain’t told her a word I said to you, or 
you said to me. She’s not so very strong, and she’s sewed since 
four o’clock this morning to get this dress ready for tomorrow. 
It’s done and we came down to try it on Elnora.” 

“Is that the truth, Mag Sinton?” demanded Mrs. Comstock. 

“You heard Wesley say so,” proudly affirmed Mrs. Sinton. 

“I want to make you a proposition,” said Wesley. “Wait till 
Elnora comes. Then we’ll show her the things and see what she 
says.” 

“How would it do to see what she says without bribing her,” 
sneered Mrs. Comstock. 

“If she can stand what she did yesterday, and will today, she 
can bear ’most anything,” said Wesley. “Put away the clothes 
if you want to, till we tell her.” 

“Well, you don’t take this waist I’m working on,” said Mar- 
garet, “for I have to baste in the sleeves and set the collar. Put 
the rest out of sight if you like.” 

Mrs. Comstock picked up the basket and bundles, placed them 
inside her room and closed the door. 

Margaret threaded her needle and began to sew. Mrs. Com- 
stock returned to her book, while Wesley fidgeted and raged in- 


THE SINTONS ARE DISAPPOINTED 41 

wardly. He could see that Margaret was nervous and almost in 
tears, but the lines in Mrs. Comstock’s impassive face were set 
and cold. So they sat while the clock ticked off the time — one 
hour, two, dusk, and no Elnora. Just when Margaret and Wesley 
were discussing whether he had not better go to town to meet 
Elnora, they heard her coming up the walk. Wesley dropped his 
tilted chair and squared himself. Margaret gripped her sewing, 
and turned pleading eyes toward the door. Mrs. Comstock 
closed her book and grimly smiled. 

“Mother, please open the door,” called Elnora. 

Mrs. Comstock arose and swung back the screen. Elnora 
stepped in beside her, bent half double, the whole front of her 
dress gathered into a sort of bag filled with a heavy load, and 
one arm stacked high with books. In the dim light she did not 
see the Sintons. 

“Please hand me the empty bucket in the kitchen, mother,” she 
said. “I just had to bring these arrow points home, but I’m 
scared for fear I’ve spoiled my dress and will have to wash it. 
I’m to clean them, and take them to the banker in the morning, 
and oh, mother, I’ve sold enough stuff to pay for my books, my 
tuition, and maybe a dress and some lighter shoes besides. Oh, 
mother I’m so happy! Take the books and bring the bucket!” 

Then she saw Margaret and Wesley. “Oh, glory!” she exulted. 
“I was just wondering how I’d ever wait to tell you, and here you 
are! It’s too perfectly splendid to be true!” 

“Tell us, Elnora,” said Sinton. 

“Well sir,” said Elnora, doubling down on the floor and 
spreading out her skirt, “set the bucket here, mother. These points 
are brittle, and should be put in one at a time. If they are chipped 
I can’t sell them. Well sir! I’ve had a time! You know I just 
had to have books. I tried three stores, and they wouldn’t trust 
me, not even three days, I didn’t know what in this world I could 
do quickly enough. Just when I was almost frantic I saw a sign 
in a bank window asking for caterpillars, cocoons, butterflies, 
arrow points, and everything. I went in, and it was this Bird 
Woman who wants the insects, and the banker wants the stones. 
I had to go to school then, but, if you’ll believe it” — Elnora 


42 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

beamed on all of them in turn as she talked and slipped the 
arrow points from her dress to the pail — “if you’ll believe it — 
but you won’t, hardly, until you look at the books — there was the 
mathematics teacher, waiting at his door, and he had a set of 
books for me that he had telephoned a Sophomore to bring.” 

“How did he happen to do that, Elnora?” interrupted Sinton. 

Elnora blushed. 

“It was a fool mistake I made yesterday in thinking books 
were just handed out to one. There was a teachers’ meeting last 
night and the history teacher told about that. Professor Henley 
thought of me. You know I told you what he said about my 
algebra, mother. Ain’t I glad I studied out some of it myself this 
summer ! So he telephoned and a girl brought the books. Because 
they are marked and abused some I get the whole outfit for 
two dollars. I can erase most of the marks, paste down the covers, 
and fix them so they look better. But I must hurry to the joy part. 
I didn’t stop to eat, at noon, I just ran to the Bird Woman’s, and 
I had lunch with her. It was salad, hot chocolate, and lovely 
things, and she wants to buy most every old scrap I ever gathered. 
She wants dragonflies, moths, butterflies, and he — the banker, I 
mean — wants everything Indian. This very night she came to 
the swamp with me and took away enough stuff to pay for the 
books and tuition, and tomorrow she is going to buy some 
more.” 

Elnora laid the last arrow point in the pail and arose, shaking 
leaves and bits of baked earth from her dress. She reached into 
her pocket, produced her money and waved it before their 
wondering eyes. 

“And that’s the joy part !” she exulted. “Put it up in the clock 
till morning, mother. That pays for the books and tuition 

and ” Elnora hesitated, for she saw the nervous grasp with 

which her mother’s fingers closed on the bills. Then she continued, 
but more slowly and thinking before she spoke. 

“What I get tomorrow pays for more books and tuition, and 
maybe a few, just a few, things to wear. These shoes are so 
dreadfully heavy and hot, and they make such a noise on the 
floor. There isn’t another calico dress in the whole building, 


THE SINTONS ARE DISAPPOINTED 43 

not among hundreds of us. Why, what is that? Aunt Margaret, 
what are you hiding in your lap?” 

She snatched the waist and shook it out, and her face was 
beaming. “Have you taken to waists all fancy and buttoned in 
the back? I bet you this is mine !” 

“I bet you so too,” said Margaret Sinton. “You undress 
right away and try it on, and if it fits, it will be done for 
morning. There are some low shoes, too!” 

Elnora began to dance. “Oh, you dear people!” she cried. “I 
can pay for them tomorrow night! Isn’t it too splendid! I was 
just thinking on the way home that I certainly would be com- 
pelled to have cooler shoes until later, and I was wondering 
what I’d do when the fall rains begin.” 

“I meant to get you some heavy dress skirts and a coat then,” 
said Mrs. Comstock. 

“I know you said so!” cried Elnora. “But you needn’t now! 
I can buy every single stitch I need myself. Next summer I can 
gather up a lot more stuff, and all winter on the way to school. 
I am sure I can sell ferns, I know I can nuts, and the Bird 
Woman says the grade rooms want leaves, grasses, birds’ nests, 
and cocoons. Oh, isn’t this world lovely! I’ll be helping with the 
tax, next, mother!” 

Elnora waved the waist and started for the bedroom. When 
she opened the door she gave a little cry. 

“What have you people been doing?” she demanded. “I 
never saw so many interesting bundles in all my life. I’m ‘skeered’ 
to death for fear I can’t pay for them, and will have to give 
up something.” 

“Wouldn’t you take them, if you could not pay for them, 
Elnora?” asked her mother instantly. 

“Why, not unless you did,” answered Elnora. “People have 
no right to wear things they can’t afford, have they?” 

“But from such old friends as Maggie and Wesley !” Mrs. Com- 
stock’s voice was oily with triumph. 

“From them least of all,” cried Elnora stoutly. “From a stranger 
sooner than from them, to whom I owe so much more than I 
ever can pay now.” 


44 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

“Well, you don’t have to,” said Mrs. Comstock. “Maggie just 
selected these things, because she is more in touch with the world, 
and has got such good taste. You can pay as long as your money 
holds out, and if there’s more necessary, maybe I can sell the 
butcher a calf, or if things are too costly for us, of course, they 
can take them back. Put on the waist now, and then you can 
look over the rest and see if they are suitable, and what you 
want.” 

Elnora stepped into the adjoining room and closed the door. 
Mrs. Comstock picked up the bucket and started for the well 
with it. At the bedroom she paused. 

“Elnora, were you going to wash these arrow points?” 

“Yes. The Bird Woman says they sell better if they are clean, 
so it can be seen that there are no defects in them.” 

“Of course,” said Mrs. Comstock. “Some of them seem quite 
baked. Shall I put them to soak? Do you want to take them in 
the morning?” 

“Yes, I do,” answered Elnora. “If you would just fill the pail 
with water.” 

Mrs. Comstock left the room. Wesley Sinton sat with his back 
to the window in the west end of the cabin which overlooked the 
well. A suppressed sound behind him caused him to turn quickly. 
Then he arose and leaned over Margaret. 

“She’s out there laughing like a blamed monkey !” he whispered 
indignantly. 

“Well, she can’t help it!” exclaimed Margaret. 

“I’m going home!” said Wesley. 

“Oh no, you are not!” retorted Margaret. “You are missing 
the point. The point is not how you look, or feel. It is to get 
these things in Elnora’s possession past dispute. You go now, and 
tomorrow Elnora will wear calico, and Kate Comstock will re- 
turn these goods. Right here I stay until everything we bought is 
Elnora’s.” 

“What are you going to do?” asked Wesley. 

“I don’t know yet, myself,” said Margaret. 

Then she arose and peered from the window. At the well curb 
stood Katherine Comstock. The strain of the day was finding 


THE SINTONS ARE DISAPPOINTED 45 

reaction. Her chin was in the air, she was heaving, shaking and 
strangling to suppress any sound. The word that slipped between 
Margaret Sinton’s lips shocked Wesley until he dropped on his 
chair, and recalled her to her senses. She was fairly composed as 
she turned to Elnora, and began the fitting. When she had 
pinched, pulled, and patted she called, “Come see if you think 
this fits, Kate.” 

Mrs. Comstock had gone around to the back door and 
answered from the kitchen. “You know more about it than I do. 
Go ahead ! I’m getting supper. Don’t forget to allow for what 
it will shrink in washing!” 

“I set the colors and washed the goods last night; it can be 
made to fit right now,” answered Margaret. 

When she could find nothing more to alter she told Elnora 
to heat some water. After she had done that the girl began 
opening packages. 

The hat came first. 

“Mother!” cried Elnora. “Mother, of course, you have seen 
this, but you haven’t seen it on me. I must try it on.” 

“Don’t you dare put that on your head until your hair is washed 
and properly combed,” said Margaret. 

“Oh !” cried Elnora. “Is that water to wash my hair? I thought 
it was to set the color in another dress.” 

“Well, you thought wrong,” said Margaret simply. “Your hair 
is going to be washed and brushed until it shines like copper. 
While it dries you can eat your supper, and this dress will be 
finished. Then you can put on your new ribbon, and your hat. 
You can try your shoes now, and if they don’t fit, you and Wesley 
can drive to town and change them. That little round bundle 
on the top of the basket is your stockings.” 

Margaret sat down and began sewing swiftly, and a little later 
opened the machine, and ran several long seams. 

Elnora returned in a few minutes holding up her skirts and 
stepping daintily in the new shoes. 

“Don’t soil them, honey, else you’re sure they fit,” cautioned 
Wesley. 

“They seem just a trifle large, maybe,” said Elnora dubiously, 


46 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

and Wesley knelt to feel. He and Margaret thought them a fit, 
and then Elnora appealed to her mother. Mrs. Comstock ap- 
peared wiping her hands on her apron. She examined the shoes 
critically. 

“They seem to fit,” she said, “but they are away too fine to 
walk country roads.” 

“I think so, too,” said Elnora instantly. “We had better take 
these back and get a cheaper pair. ” 

“Oh, let them go for this time,” said Mrs. Comstock. “They 
are so pretty, I hate to part with them. You can get cheaper ones 
after this.” 

Wesley and Margaret scarcely breathed for a long time. 

Then Wesley went to do the feeding. Elnora set the table. When 
the water was hot, Margaret pinned a big towel around Elnora’s 
shoulders and washed and dried the lovely hair according to the 
instructions she had been given the previous night. As the hair 
began to dry it billowed out in a sparkling sheen that caught the 
light and gleamed and flashed. 

“Now, the idea is to let it stand naturally, just as the curl 
will make it. Don’t you do any of that nasty, untidy snarling, 
Elnora,” cautioned Margaret. “Wash it this way every two weeks 
while you are in school, shake it out, and dry it. Then part it in 
the middle and turn a fr ont quarter on each side from your face. 
You tie the back at your neck with a string — so, and the ribbon 
goes in a big, loose bow. I’ll show you.” One after another 
Margaret Sinton tied the ribbons, creasing each of them so they 
could not be returned, as she explained that she was trying to 
find the color most becoming. Then she produced the raincoat 
which carried Elnora into transports. 

Mrs. Comstock objected. “That won’t be warm enough for 
cold weather, and you can’t afford it and a coat, too.” 

“I’ll tell you what I thought,” said Elnora. “I was planning on 
the way home. These coats are fine because they keep you dry. 
I thought I would get one, and a warm sweater to wear under 
it cold days. Then I always would be dry, and warm. The sweater 
only costs three dollars, so I could get it and the raincoat both for 
half the price of a heavy cloth coat.” 


THE SINTONS ARE DISAPPOINTED 47 

“You are right about that,” said Mrs. Comstock. “You can 
change more with the weather, too. Keep the raincoat, Elnora.” 

“Wear it until you try the hat,” said Margaret. “It will have 
to do until the dress is finished.” 

Elnora picked up the hat dubiously. “Mother, may I wear 
my hair as it is now?” she asked. 

“Let me take a good look,” said Katherine Comstock. 

Heaven only knows what she saw. To Wesley and to Margaret 
the bright young face of Elnora, with its pink tints, its heavy dark 
brows, its bright blue-gray eyes, and its frame of curling reddish- 
brown hair was the sweetest sight on earth, and at that instant 
Elnora was radiant. 

“So long as it’s your own hair, and combed back as plain as it 
will go, I don’t suppose it cuts much ice whether it’s tied a little 
tighter or looser,” conceded Mrs. Comstock. “If you stop right 
there, you may let it go at that.” 

Elnora set the hat on her head. It was only a wide tan straw 
with three exquisite peacock quills at one side. Margaret Sinton 
cried out, Wesley slapped his knee and sighed deeply while Mrs. 
Comstock stood speechless for a second. 

“I wish you had asked the price before you put that on,” she 
said impatiently. “We never can afford it.” 

“It’s not so much as you think,” said Margaret. “Don’t you 
see what I did? I had them take off the quills, and I put on some 
of those Phoebe Simms gave me from her peacocks. The hat will 
only cost you a dollar and a half.” 

She avoided Wesley’s eyes, and looked straight at Mrs. Com- 
stock. Elnora removed the hat to examine it. 

“Why, they are those reddish-tan quills of yours!” she cried. 
“Mother, look how beautifully they are set on ! I’d much rather 
have them than those from the store.” 

“So would I,” said Mrs. Comstock. “If Margaret wants to 
spare them, that will make you a beautiful hat; dirt cheap, too! 
You must go past Mrs. Simms and show her. She would be 
pleased to see them.” 

Elnora sank into a chair and contemplated her toe. “Landy, 
ain’t I a queen?” she murmured. “What else have I got?” 


48 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

* 

“Just a belt, some handkerchiefs, and a pair of top shoes for 
rainy days and colder weather,” said Margaret. 

“About those high shoes, that was my idea,” said Wesley. “Soon 
as it rains, low shoes won’t do, and by taking two pairs at once I 
could get them some cheaper. The low ones are two and the high 
ones two-fifty, together three seventy-five. Ain’t that cheap?” 

“That’s a real bargain,” said Mrs. Comstock, “if they are good 
shoes, and they look it.” 

“This,” said Wesley, producing the last package, “is your 
Christmas present from your Aunt Maggie. I got mine, too, but 
it’s at the house. I’ll bring it up in the morning.” 

He handed Margaret the umbrella, and she passed it over to 
Elnora who opened it and sat laughing under its shelter. Then she 
kissed both of them. She brought a pencil and a slip of paper to 
set down the prices they gave her of everything they had brought 
except the umbrella, added the sum, and said laughingly: “Will 
you please wait till tomorrow for the money? I will have it then, 
sure.” 

“Elnora,” said Wesley Sinton. “Wouldn’t you ” 

“Elnora, hustle here a minute!” called Mrs. Comstock from 
the kitchen. “I need you!” 

“One second, mother,” answered Elnora, throwing off the coat 
and hat, and closing the umbrella as she ran. There were several 
errands to do in a hurry, and then supper. Elnora chattered in- 
cessantly, Wesley and Margaret talked all they could, while Mrs. 
Comstock said a word now and then, which was all she ever did. 
But Wesley Sinton was watching her, and time and again he 
saw a peculiar little twist around her mouth. He knew that for 
the first time in sixteen years she really was laughing over some- 
thing. She had all she could do to preserve her usually sober face. 
Wesley knew what she was thinking. 

After supper the dress was finished, the pattern for the next 
one discussed, and then the Sintons went home. Elnora gathered 
her treasures. When she started upstairs she stopped. “May I kiss 
you good night, mother?” she asked lightly. 

“Never mind any slobbering,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I should 


THE SINTONS ARE DISAPPOINTED 49 

think you’d lived with me long enough to know that I don’t care 
for it.” 

“Well, I’d love to show you in some way how happy I am, and 
how I thank you.” 

“I wonder what for?” said Mrs. Comstock. “Mag Sinton chose 
that stuff and brought it here and you pay for it.” 

“Yes, but you seemed willing for me to have it, and you said 
you would help me if I couldn’t pay all.” 

“Maybe I did,” said Mrs. Comstock. “Maybe I did. I meant 
to get you some heavy dress skirts about Thanksgiving, and I 
still can get them. Go to bed, and for any sake don’t begin 
mooning before a mirror, and make a dunce of yourself.” 

Mrs. Comstock picked up several papers and blew out the 
kitchen light. She stood in the middle of the sitting-room floor 
for a time and then went into her room and closed the door. Sit- 
ting on the edge of the bed she thought for a few minutes and 
then suddenly buried her face in the pillow and again heaved 
with laughter. 

Down the road plodded Margaret and Wesley Sinton. Neither 
of them had words to utter their united thought. 

“Done!” hissed Wesley at last. “Done brown! Did you ever 
feel like a bloomin’, confounded donkey? How did the woman 
do it?” 

“She didn’t do it!” gulped Margaret through her tears. “She 
didn’t do anything. She trusted to Elnora’s great big soul to bring 
her out right, and really she was right, and so it had to bring her. 
She’s a darling, Wesley! But she’s got a time before her. Did you 
see Kate Comstock grab that money? Before six months she’ll be 
out combing the Limberlost for bugs and arrow points to help 
pay the tax. I know her.” 

“Well, I don’t!” exclaimed Sinton, “she’s too many for me. But 
there is a laugh left in her yet ! I didn’t s’pose there was. Bet you 
a dollar, if we could see her this minute, she’d be chuckling over 
the way we got left.” 

Both of them stopped in the road and looked back. 

“There’s Elnora’s light in her room,” said Margaret. “The poor 
child will feel those clothes, and pore over her books till morning, 


50 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

but she’ll look decent to go to school, anyway. Nothing is too big 
a price to pay for that.” 

“Yes, if Kate lets her wear them. Ten to one, she makes her 
finish the week with that old stuff!” 

“No, she won’t,” said Margaret. “She’ll hardly dare. Kate 
made some concessions, all right; big ones for her — if she did get 
her way in the main. She bent some, and if Elnora proves that she 
can walk out barehanded in the morning and come back with 
that much money in her pocket, an armful of books, and buy a 
turnout like that, she proves that she is of some consideration, 
and Kate’s smart enough. She’ll think twice before she’ll do that. 
Elnora won’t wear a calico dress to high school again. You 
watch and see if she does. She may have the best clothes she’ll 
get for a time, for the least money, but she won’t know it until 
she tries to buy goods herself at the same rates. Wesley, what 
about those prices? Didn’t they shrink considerable?” 

“You began it,” said Wesley. “Those prices were all right. We 
didn’t say what the goods cost us, we said what they would cost 
her. Surely, she’s mistaken about being able to pay all that. Can 
she pick up stuff of that value around the Limberlost? DidnY 
the Bird Woman see her trouble, and just give her the money?’ 1 ' 

“I don’t think so,” said Margaret. “Seems to me I’ve heard 
of her paying, or offering to pay those who would take the money, 
for bugs and butterflies, and I’ve known people who sold that 
banker Indian stuff. Once I heard that his pipe collection beat 
that of the Government at the Philadelphia Centennial. Those 
things have come to have a value.” 

“Well, there’s about a bushel of that kind of valuables piled up 
in the woodshed, that belongs to Elnora. At least, I picked them 
up because she said she wanted them. Ain’t it queer that she’d 
take to stones, bugs, and butterflies, and save them. Now they 
are going to bring her the very thing she wants the worst. Lord, 
but this is a funny world when you get to studying! Looks like 
things didn’t all come by accident. Looks as if there was a plan 
back of it, and somebody driving that knows the road, and how 
to handle the lines. Anyhow, Elnora’s in the wagon, and when 
I get out in the night and the dark closes around me, and I see 


THE SINTONS ARE DISAPPOINTED 51 

the stars, I don’t feel so cheap. Maggie, how the nation did 
Kate Comstock do that?” 

“You will keep on harping, Wesley. I told you she didn’t do it. 
Elnora did it! She walked in and took things right out of our 
hands. All Kate had to do was to enjoy having it go her way, and 
she was cute enough to put in a few questions that sort of guided 
Elnora. But I don’t know, Wesley. This thing makes me think, too. 
S’pose we’d taken Elnora when she was a baby, and we’d heaped 
on her all the love we can’t on our own, and we’d coddled, petted, 
and shielded her, would she have made the woman that living 
alone, learning to think for herself, and taking all the knocks Kate 
Comstock could give, have made of her?” 

“You bet your life!” cried Wesley warmly. “Loving anybody 
don’t hurt them. We wouldn’t have done anything but love her. 
You can’t hurt a child loving it. She’d have learned to work, to 
study, and grown into a woman with us, without suffering like 
a poor homeless dog.” 

“But you don’t see the point, Wesley. She would have grown 
into a fine woman with us; but as we would have raised her, 
would her heart ever have known the world as it does now? 
Where’s the anguish, Wesley, that child can’t comprehend? Seeing 
what she’s seen of her mother hasn’t hardened her. She can 
understand any mother’s sorrow. Living life from the rough side 
has only broadened her. Where’s the girl or boy burning with 
shame, or struggling to find a way, that will cross Elnora’s path 
and not get a lift from her? She’s had the knocks, but there’ll 
never be any of the thing you call ‘false pride’ in her. I guess we 
better keep out. Maybe Kate Comstock knows what she’s doing. 
Sure as you live, Elnora has grown bigger on knocks than she 
would on love.” 

“I don’t s’pose there ever was a very fine point to anything 
but I missed it,” said Wesley, “because I am blunt, rough, and 
have no book learning to speak of. Since you put it into words I 
see what you mean, but it’s dinged hard on Elnora, just the same. 
And I don’t keep out. I keep watching closer than ever. I got 
my slap in the face, but if I don’t miss my guess, Kate Comstock 
learned her lesson, same as I did. She learned that I was in 


52 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

earnest, that I would haul her to court if she didn’t loosen up a 
bit, and she’ll loosen. You see if she doesn’t. It may come hard, 
and the hinges creak, but she’ll fix Elnora decent after this, if 
Elnora doesn’t prove that she can fix herself. As for me, I found 
out that what I was doing was as much for myself as for Elnora. 
I wanted her to take those things from us, and love us for giving 
them. It didn’t work, and but for you, I’d messed the whole thing 
and stuck like a pig in crossing a bridge. But you helped me out; 
Elnora’s got the clothes, and by morning, maybe I won’t grudge 
Kate the only laugh she’s had in sixteen years. You been show- 
ing me the way quite a spell now, ain’t you, Maggie?” 

In her attic Elnora lighted two candles, set them on her little 
table, stacked the books, and put away the precious clothes. How 
lovingly she hung the hat and umbrella, folded the raincoat, and 
spread the new dress over a chair. She fingered the ribbons, and 
tried to smooth the creases from them. She put away the hose 
neatly folded, touched the handkerchiefs, and tried the belt. Then 
she slipped into her white nightdress, shook down her hair that it 
might become thoroughly dry, set a chair before the table, and 
reverently opened one of the books. A stiff draft swept the 
attic, for it stretched the length of the cabin, and had a window in 
each end. Elnora arose and going to the east window closed it. 
She stood for a minute looking at the stars, the sky, and the 
dark outline of the straggling trees of the rapidly dismantling 
Limberlost. In the region of her case a tiny point of light flashed 
and disappeared. Elnora straightened and wondered. Was it wise 
to leave her precious money there? The light flashed once more, 
wavered a few seconds, and died out. The girl waited. She did 
not see it again, so she turned to her books. 

In the Limberlost the hulking figure of a man sneaked down 
the trail. 

“The Bird Woman was at Freckles’s room this evening,” he 
muttered. “Wonder what for?” 

He left the trail, entered the enclosure still distinctly outlined, 
and approached the case. The first point of light flashed from 
the tiny electric lamp on his vest. He took a duplicate key from 
his pocket, felt for the padlock and opened it. The door swung 


THE SINTONS ARE DISAPPOINTED 53 

wide. The light flashed the second time. Swiftly his glance swept 
the interior. 

“ ’Bout a fourth of her moths gone. Elnora must have been 
with the Bird Woman and given them to her.” Then he stood 
tense. His keen eyes discovered the roll of bills hastily thrust back 
in the bottom of the case. He snatched them up, shut off the 
light, relocked the case by touch, and swiftly went down the trail. 
Every few seconds he paused and listened intently. Just as he 
reached the road, a second figure approached him. 

“Is it you, Pete?” came the whispered question. 

“Yes,” said the first man. 

“I was coming down to take a peep, when I saw your flash,” he 
said. “I heard the Bird Woman had been at the case today. 
Anything doing?” 

“Not a thing,” said Pete. “She just took away about a fourth 
of the moths. Probably had the Comstock girl getting them for her. 
Heard they were together. Likely she’ll get the rest tomorrow. 
Ain’t pickin’ gettin’ bare these days?” 

“Well, I should say so,” said the second man, turning back in 
disgust. “Coming home, now?” 

“No, I am going down this way,” answered Pete, for his eyes 
caught the gleam from the window of the Comstock cabin, and 
he had a desire to learn why Elnora’s attic was lighted at that 
hour. 

He slouched down the road, occasionally feeling the size of 
the roll he had not taken time to count. 

The attic was too long, the light too near the other end, and 
the cabin stood much too far back from the road. He could 
see nothing although he climbed the fence and walked back op- 
posite the window. He knew Mrs. Comstock was probably awake, 
and that she sometimes went to the swamp behind her home at 
night. At times a cry went up from that locality that paralyzed 
anyone near, or sent them fleeing as if for life. He did not care 
to cross behind the cabin. He returned to the road, passed, and 
again climbed the fence. Opposite the west window he could see 
Elnora. She sat before a small table reading from a book between 
two candles. Her hair fell in a bright sheen around her, and with 


54 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

one hand she lightly shook, and tossed it as she studied. The 
man stood out in the night and watched. 

For a long time a leaf turned at intervals and the hair-drying 
went on. The man drew nearer. The picture grew more beautiful 
as he approached. He could not see so well as he desired, for 
the screen was of white mosquito netting, and it angered him. He 
cautiously crept closer. The elevation shut off his view. Then he 
remembered the large willow tree shading the well and branch- 
ing across the window at the west end of the cabin. From child- 
hood Elnora had stepped from the sill to a limb and slid down the 
slanting trunk of the tree. He reached it and noiselessly swung 
himself up. Three steps out on the big limb the man shuddered. 
He was within a few feet of the girl. 

He could see the throb of her breast under its thin covering 
and smell the fragrance of the tossing hair. He could see the 
narrow bed with its pieced calico cover, the whitewashed walls 
with gay lithographs, and every crevice stuck full of twigs with 
dangling cocoons. There were pegs for the few clothes, the old 
chest, the little table, the two chairs, the uneven floor covered 
with rag rugs and braided com husk. But nothing was worth a 
glance except the perfect face and form within reach by one 
spring through the rotten mosquito bar. He gripped the limb 
above that on which he stood, licked his lips, and breathed 
through his throat to be sure he was making no sound. Elnora 
closed the book and laid it aside. She picked up a towel, and 
turning the gathered ends of her hair rubbed them across it, 
and dropping the towel on her lap, tossed the hair again. Then 
she sat in deep thought. By and by words began to come softly. 
Near as he was the man could not hear at first. He bent closer and 
listened intently. 

“ — ever could be so happy,” murmured the soft voice. “The 
dress is so pretty, such shoes, the coat, and everything. I won’t 
have to be ashamed again, not ever again, for the Limberlost is 
full of precious moths, and I always can collect them. The Bird 
Woman will buy more tomorrow, and the next day, and the next. 
When they are all gone, I can spend every minute gathering 
cocoons, and hunting other things I can sell. Oh, thank God, for 


THE SINTONS ARE DISAPPOINTED 55 

my precious, precious money. Why, I didn’t pray in vain after all ! 
I thought when I asked the Lord to hide me, there in that big 
hall, that He wasn’t doing it, because I wasn’t covered from 
sight that instant. But I’m hidden now, I feel that.” Elnora 
lifted her eyes to the beams above her. “I don’t know much about 
praying properly,” she muttered, “but I do thank you, Lord, for 
hiding me in your own time and way.” 

Her face was so bright that it shone with a white radiance. 
Two big tears welled from her eyes, and rolled down her smiling 
cheeks. “Oh, I do feel that you have hidden me,” she breathed. 
Then she blew out the lights, and the little wooden bed creaked 
under her weight. 

Pete Corson dropped from the limb and found his way to the 
road. He stood still a long time, then started back to the Limber- 
lost. A tiny point of light flashed in the region of the case. He 
stopped with an oath. 

“Another hound trying to steal from a girl,” he exclaimed. “But 
it’s likely he thinks if he gets anything it will be from a woman 
who can afford it, as I did.” 

He went on, but beside the fences, and very cautiously. 

“Swamp seems to be alive tonight,” he muttered. “That’s 
three of us out.” 

He entered a deep place at the northwest comer, sat on the 
ground and taking a pencil from his pocket, he tore a leaf from 
a little notebook, and laboriously wrote a few lines by the light 
he carried. Then he went back to the region of the case and 
waited. Before his eyes swept the vision of the slender white 
creature with tossing hair. He smiled, and worshiped it, until 
a distant rooster faintly announced dawn. 

Then he unlocked the case again, and replaced the money, laid 
the note upon it, and went back to concealment, where he re- 
mained until Elnora came down the trail in the morning, ap- 
pearing very lovely in her new dress and hat. 


CHAPTER V 


Wherein Elnora Receives a Warning , 
and Billy Appears on the Scene 


It would be difficult to describe how happy Elnora was that 
morning as she hurried through her work, bathed and put on the 
neat, dainty gingham dress, and the tan shoes. She had a struggle 
with her hair. It crinkled, billowed, and shone, and she could not 
avoid seeing the becoming frame it made around her face. But 
in deference to her mother’s feelings the girl set her teeth, and 
bound her hair closely to her head with a shoestring. “Not to be 
changed at the case,” she told herself. 

That her mother was watching she was unaware. Just as she 
picked up the beautiful brown ribbon Mrs. Comstock spoke. 

“You had better let me tie that. You can’t reach behind your- 
self and do it right.” 

Elnora gave a little gasp. Her mother never before had pro- 
posed to do anything for the girl that by any possibility she could 
do herself. Her heart quaked at the thought of how her mother 
would arrange that bow, but Elnora dared not refuse. The offer 
was too precious. It might never be made again. 

“Oh, thank you !” said the girl, and sitting down she held out 
the ribbon. 

Her mother stood back and looked at her critically. 

“You haven’t got that like Mag Sinton had it last night,” 
she announced. “You little idiot ! You’ve tried to plaster it down to 
suit me, and you missed it. I liked it away better as Mag fixed 
% after I saw it. You didn’t look so peeled.” 


ELNORA RECEIVES A WARNING 57 

“Oh mother, mother !” laughed Elnora, with a half sob in her 
voice. 

“Hold still, will you?” cried Mrs. Comstock. “You’ll be late, 
and I haven’t packed your dinner yet.” 

She untied the string and shook out the hair. It rose with 
electricity and clung to her fingers and hands. Mrs. Comstock 
jumped back as if bitten. She knew that touch. Her face grew 
white, and her eyes angry. 

“Tie it yourself,” she said shortly, “and then I’ll put on the 
ribbon. But roll it back loose like Mag did. It looked so pretty 
that way.” 

Almost fainting Elnora stood before the glass, divided off the 
front parts of her hair, and rolled them as Mrs. Sinton had 
done; tied it at the nape of her neck, then sat while her mother 
arranged the ribbon. 

“If I pull it down till it comes tight in these creases where she 
had it, it will be just right, won’t it?” queried Mrs. Comstock, 
and the amazed Elnora stammered, “Yes.” 

When she looked in the glass the bow was perfectly tied, and 
how the gold tone of the brown did match the lustre of the shining 
hair ! “That’s pretty,” commented Mrs. Comstock’s soul, but her 
stiff lips had said all that could be forced from them for once. 
Just then Wesley Sinton came to the door. 

“Good morning,” he cried heartily. “Elnora, you look a pic- 
ture ! My, but you’re sweet ! If any of the city boys get sassy you 
tell your Uncle Wesley, and he’ll horsewhip them. Here’s your 
Christmas present from me.” He handed Elnora the leather lunch 
box, with her name carved across the strap in artistic lettering. 

“Oh, Uncle Wesley!” was all Elnora could say. 

“Your Aunt Maggie filled it for me for a starter,” he said. 
“Now, if you are ready, I’m going to drive past your way and 
you can ride almost to Onabasha with me, and save the new shoe* 
that much.” 

Elnora was staring at the box. “Oh, I hope it isn’t impolite to 
open it before you,” she said. “I just feel as if I must see inside.” 

“Don’t you stand on formality with the neighbors,” laughed 
Sinton. “Look in your box if you want to!” 


58 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

Elnora slipped the strap and turned back the lid. 

This disclosed the knife, fork, napkin, and spoon, the milk 
flask, and the interior packed with dainty sandwiches wrapped 
in tissue paper, and the little compartments for meat, salad, and 
the custard cup. 

“Oh, mother !” cried Elnora. “Oh, mother, isn’t it fine? What 
made you think of it, Uncle Wesley? How will I ever thank you? 
No one will have a finer lunch box than I. Oh, I do thank you! 
That’s the nicest gift I ever had. How I love Christmas in 
September!” 

“It’s a mighty handy thing,” assented Mrs. Comstock, taking 
in every detail with sharp eyes. “I guess you are glad now you 
went and helped Mag and Wesley when you could, Elnora?” 

“Deedy, yes,” laughed Elnora, “and I’m going again first time 
they have a big day if I stay from school to do it.” 

“You’ll do no such thing!” said the delighted Sinton. “Come 
now, if you’re going!” 

“If I ride, can you spare me time to run into the swamp to my 
box a minute?” asked Elnora. 

The light she had seen the previous night troubled her. 

“Sure,” said Wesley largely. So they drove away and left a 
white-faced woman watching them from the door, her heart a 
little sorer than usual. 

“I’d give a pretty to hear what he’ll say to her!” she com- 
mented bitterly. “Always sticking in, always doing things I can’t 
ever afford. Where on earth did he get that thing and what did 
it cost?” 

Then she entered the cabin and began the day’s work, but 
mingled with the brooding bitterness of her soul was the vision of 
a sweet young face, glad with a gladness never before seen on it, 
and over and over she repeated: “I wonder what he’ll say to 
her!” 

What he said was that she looked as fresh and sweet as a posy, 
and to be careful not to step in the mud or scratch her shoes 
when she went to the case. 

Elnora found her key and opened the door. Not where she had 
placed it, but conspicuously in front lay her little heap of bills. 


ELNORA RECEIVES A WARNING 59 

and a crude scrawl of writing beside it. Elnora picked up the note 
in astonishment. 

dere Elnory, 

the lord amighty is hiding you all right done you ever dout it 
this money of yourn was took for some time las nite but it is 
returned with intres for god sake done ever come to the swamp 
at nite or late evnin or mornin or far in any time sompin worse 
an you know could git you 

A FREND. 

Elnora began to tremble. She hastily glanced around. The 
damp earth before the case had been trodden by large, roughly 
shod feet. She caught up the money and the note, thrust them 
into her guimpe, locked the case, and ran to the road. 

She was so breathless and her face so white Sinton noticed it. 

“What in the world’s the matter, Elnora?” he asked. 

“I am half afraid!” she panted. 

“Tut, tut, child!” said Wesley Sinton. “Nothing in the world 
to be afraid of. What happened?” 

“Uncle Wesley,” said Elnora, “I had more money than I 
brought home last night, and I put it in my case. Someone has 
been there. The ground is all trampled, and they left this note.” 

“And took your money, I’ll wager,” said Sinton angrily. 

“No,” answered Elnora. “Read the note, and oh, Uncle Wesley, 
tell me what it means!” 

Sinton’s face was a study. “I don’t know what it means,” he 
said. “Only one thing is clear. It means some beast who doesn’t 
really want to harm you has got his eye on you, and he is telling 
you plain as he can, not to give him a chance. You got to keep 
along the roads, in the open, and not let the biggest moth that 
ever flew toll you out of hearing of us, or your mother. It means 
that, plain and distinct.” 

“Just when I can sell them ! Just when everything is so lovely 
on account of them! I can’t! I can’t stay away from the swamp. 
The Limberlost is going to buy the books, the clothes, pay the 
tuition, and even start a college fund. I just can’t!” 

“You’ve got to,” said Sinton. “This is plain enough. You go 
far in the swamp at your own risk, even in daytime.” 


60 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

“Uncle Wesley,” said the girl, “last night before I went to bed, 
I was so happy I tried to pray, and I thanked God for hiding 
me ‘under the shadow of His wing.’ But how in the world could 
anyone know it?” 

Wesley Sinton’s heart leaped in his breast. His face was whiter 
than the girl’s now. 

“Were you praying out loud, honey?” he almost whispered. 

“I might have said words,” answered Elnora. “I know I do 
sometimes. I’ve never had anyone to talk with, and I’ve played 
with and talked to myself all my life. You’ve caught me at it often, 
but it always makes mother angry when she does. She says it’s 
silly. I forget and do it, when I’m alone. But Uncle Wesley, if 
I said anything last night, you know it was the merest whisper, 
because I’d have been so afraid of waking mother. Don’t you 
see? I sat up late, and studied two lessons.” 

Sinton was steadying himself. “I’ll stop and examine the case 
as I come back,” he said. “Maybe I can find some clue. That 
other — that was just accidental. It’s a common expression. All 
the preachers use it. If I tried to pray, that would be the very 
first thing I’d say.” 

The color returned to Elnora’s face. 

“Did you tell your mother about this money, Elnora?” he asked. 

“No, I didn’t,” said Elnora. “It’s dreadful not to, but I was 
afraid. You see, they are clearing the swamp so fast. Every year 
it grows more difficult to find things, and Indian stuff becomes 
scarcer. I want to graduate, and that’s four years unless I can 
double on the course. That means twenty dollars tuition each 
year, and new books, and clothes. There won’t ever be so much 
at one time again, that I know. I just got to hang to my money. I 
was afraid to tell her, for fear she would want it for taxes, and 
she really must sell a tree or some cattle for that, mustn’t she, 
Uncle Wesley?” 

“On your life, she must!” said Wesley. “You put your little 
wad in the bank all safe, and never mention it to a living soul. 
It doesn’t seem right, but your case is peculiar. Every word you 
say is a true word. Each year you will find less in the swamp, 
and things everywhere will be scarcer. If you ever get a few 


ELNORA RECEIVES A WARNING 6l 

dollars ahead, that can start your college fund. You know you are 
going to college, Elnora!” 

“Of course I am,” said Elnora. “I settled that as soon as I 
knew what a college was. I will put all my money in the bank, 
except what I owe you. I’ll pay that now.” 

“If your arrows are heavy,” said Wesley, “I’ll drive on to 
Onabasha with you.” 

“But they are not. Half of them were nicked, and this little box 
held all the good ones. It’s so surprising how many are spoiled 
when you wash them.” 

“What does he pay?” 

“Ten cents for any common perfect one, fifty for revolvers, a 
dollar for obsidian, and whatever is right for enormous big ones.” 

“Well, that sounds fair,” said Sinton. “You can come down 
Saturday and wash the stuff at our house, and I’ll take it in when 
we go marketing in the afternoon.” 

Elnora jumped from the carriage. She soon found that with her 
books, her lunch box, and the points she had a heavy load. She 
had almost reached the bridge crossing the culvert when she heard 
distressed screams of a child. Across an orchard of the suburbs 
came a small boy, after him a big dog, urged by a man in the 
background. Elnora’s heart was with the small fleeing figure in 
any event whatever. She dropped her load on the bridge, and with 
practiced hand flung a stone at the dog. The beast curled double 
with a howl. The boy reached the fence, and Elnora was there 
to help him over. As he touched the top she swung him to the 
ground, but he clung to her, clasping her tightly, sobbing with 
fear. Elnora helped him to the bridge, and sat with him in her 
arms. For a time his replies to her questions were indistinct, but 
at last he became quieter and she could understand. 

He was a mite of a boy, nothing but skin-covered bones, his 
burned, freckled face in a mortar of tears and dust, his clothing 
unspeakably dirty, one great toe in a festering mass from a broken 
nail, and sores all over the visible portions of the small body. 

“You won’t let the mean old thing make his dog get me!” 
he wailed. 

“Indeed no,” said Elnora, holding him closely. 


62 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

“You wouldn’t set a dog on a boy for just taking a few old 
apples when you fed ’em to pigs with a shovel every day, would 
you?” 

“No, I would not,” said Elnora hotly. 

“You’d give a boy all the apples he wanted, if he hadn’t any 
breakfast, and was so hungry he was all twisty inside, wouldn’t 
you?” 

“Yes, I would,” said Elnora. 

“If you had anything to eat you would give me something 
right now, wouldn’t you?” 

“Yes,” said Elnora. “There’s nothing but just stones in the 
package. But my dinner is in that case. I’ll gladly divide.” 

She opened the box. The famished child gave a little cry and 
reached both hands. Elnora caught them back. 

“Did you have any supper?” 

“No.” 

“Any dinner yesterday?” 

“An apple and some grapes I stole.” 

“Whose boy are you?” 

“Old Tom Billings’s.” 

“Why doesn’t your father get you something to eat?” 

“He does most days, but he’s drunk now.” 

“Hush, you must not!” said Elnora. “He’s your father!” 

“He’s spent all the money to get drunk, too,” said the boy, “and 
Jimmy and Belle are both crying for breakfast. I’d ’a’ got out all 
right with an apple for myself, but I tried to get some for them 
and the dog got too close. Say, you can throw, can’t you?” 

“Yes,” admitted Elnora. She poured half the milk into the 
cup. “Drink this,” she said, holding it to him. 

The boy gulped the milk and swore joyously, gripping the cup 
with shaking fingers. 

“Hush!” cried Elnora. “That’s dreadful!” 

“What’s dreadful?” 

“To say such awful words.” 

“Huh ! Pa says worser ’an that every breath he draws.” 

Elnora saw that the child was older than she had thought. He 
might have been forty judging by his hard, unchildish expression. 


ELNORA RECEIVES A WARNING 63 

“Do you want to be like your father?” 

“No, I want to be like you. Couldn’t a angel be prettier ’an 
you. Can I have more milk?” 

Elnora emptied the flask. The boy drained the cup. He drew 
a breath of satisfaction as he gazed into her face. 

“You wouldn’t go off and leave your little boy, would you?” 
he asked. 

“Did someone go away and leave you?” 

“Yes, my mother went off and left me, and left Jimmy and 
Belle, too,” said the boy. “You wouldn’t leave your little boy, 
would you?” 

“No.” 

The boy looked eagerly at the box. Elnora lifted a sandwich 
and uncovered the fried chicken. The boy gasped with delight. 

“Say, I could eat the stuff in the glass and the other box and 
carry the bread and the chicken to Jimmy and Belle,” he offered. 

Elnora silently uncovered the custard with preserved cherries 
on top and handed it and the spoon to the child. Never did food 
disappear faster. The salad went next, and a sandwich and half 
a chicken breast followed. 

“I better leave the rest for Jimmy and Belle,” he said, “they’re 
’ist fightin’ hungry.” 

Elnora gave him the remainder of the carefully prepared lunch. 
The boy clutched it and ran with a sidewise hop like a wild thing. 
She covered the dishes and cup, polished the spoon, replaced it, 
and closed the case. She caught her breath in a tremulous 
laugh. 

“If Aunt Margaret knew that, she’d never forgive me,” she 
said. “It seems as if secrecy is literally forced upon me, and I 
hate it. What shall I do for lunch? I’ll have to sell my arrows 
and keep enough money for a restaurant sandwich.” 

So she walked hurriedly into town, sold her points at a good 
price, deposited her funds, and went away with a neat little bank 
book and the note from the Limberlost carefully folded inside. 
Elnora passed down the hall that morning, and no one paid the 
slightest attention to her. The truth was she looked so like every- 
one else that she was perfectly inconspicuous. But in the coat room 


64 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

there were members of her class. Surely no one intended it, but 
the whisper was too loud. 

“Look at the girl from the Limberlost in the clothes that 
woman gave her!” 

Elnora turned on them. “I beg your pardon,” she said un- 
steadily, “I couldn’t help hearing that! No one gave me these 
clothes. I paid for them myself.” 

Someone muttered, “Pardon me,” but incredulous faces greeted 
her. 

Elnora felt driven. “Aunt Margaret selected them, and she 
meant to give them to me,” she explained, “but I wouldn’t take 
them. I paid for them myself.” There was silence. 

“Don’t you believe me?” panted Elnora. 

“Really, it is none of our affair,” said another girl. “Gome on, 
let’s go.” 

Elnora stepped before the girl who had spoken. “You have 
made this your affair,” she said, “because you told a thing which 
was not true. No one gave me what I am wearing. I paid for my 
clothes myself with money I earned selling moths to the Bird 
Woman. I just came from the bank where I deposited what I 
did not use. Here is my credit.” Elnora drew out and offered the 
little red book. “Surely you will believe that,” she said. 

“Why, of course,” said the girl who first had spoken. “We met 
such a lovely woman in Brownlee’s store, and she said she wanted 
our help to buy some things for a girl, and that’s how we came 
to know.” 

“Dear Aunt Margaret,” said Elnora, “it was like her to ask 
you. Isn’t she splendid?” 

“She is indeed,” chorused the girls. Elnora set down her lunch 
box and books, unpinned her hat, hanging it beside the others, 
and taking up the books she reached to set the box in its place and 
dropped it. With a little cry she snatched at it and caught the 
strap on top. That pulled from the fastening, the cover unrolled, 
the box fell away as far as it could, two porcelain lids rattled on 
the floor, and the one sandwich rolled like a cartwheel across 
the room. Elnora lifted a ghastly face. For once no one laughed. 
She stood an instant staring. 


ELNORA RECEIVES A WARNING 65 

“It seems to be my luck to be crucified at every point of the 
compass,” she said at last. “First two days you thought I was a 
pauper, now you will think I’m a fraud. All of you will believe 
I bought an expensive box, and then was too poor to put any- 
thing but a restaurant sandwich in it. You must stop till I prove to 
you that I’m not.” 

Elnora gathered up the lids, and kicked the sandwich into 
a corner. 

“I had milk in that bottle, see ! And custard in the cup. There 
was salad in the little box, fried chicken in the large one, and nut 
sandwiches in the tray. You can see the crumbs of all of them. 
A man set a dog on a child who was so starved he was stealing 
apples. I talked with him, and I thought I could bear hunger 
better, he was such a little boy, so I gave him my lunch, and got 
the sandwich at the restaurant.” 

Elnora held out the box. The girls were laughing by that time. 
“You goose,” said one, “why didn’t you give him the money, 
and save your lunch?” 

“He was such a little fellow, and he really was hungry,” said 
Elnora. “I often go without anything to eat at noon in the fields 
and woods, and never think of it.” 

She closed the box and set it beside the lunches of other country 
pupils. While her back was turned, into the room came the girl 
of her encounter on the first day, walked to the rack, and with an 
exclamation of approval took down Elnora’s hat. 

“Just the thing I have been wanting!” she said. “I never saw 
such beautiful quills in all my life. They match my new broad- 
cloth to perfection. I’ve got to have that kind of quills for my hat. 
I never saw the like! Whose is it, and where did it come 
from?” 

No one said a word, for Elnora’s question, the reply, and her 
answer, had been repeated. Everyone knew that the Limberlost 
girl had come out ahead and Sadie Reed had not been amiable, 
when the little flourish had been added to Elnora’s name in the 
algebra class. Elnora’s swift glance was pathetic, but no one 
helped her. Sadie Reed glanced from the hat to the faces around 
her and wondered. 


66 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

“Why, this is the Freshman section, whose hat is it?” she asked 
again, this time impatiently. 

“That’s the tassel of the comstock,” said Elnora with a forced 
laugh. 

The response was genuine. Everyone shouted. Sadie Reed 
blushed, but she laughed also. 

“Well, it’s beautiful,” she said, “especially the quills. They are 
exactly what I want. I know I don’t deserve any kindness from 
you, but I do wish you would tell me at whose store you found 
those quills.” 

“Gladly!” said Elnora. “You can’t buy quills like those at a 
store. They are from a living bird. Phoebe Simms gathers them 
in her orchard as her peacocks shed them. They are wing quills 
from the males.” 

Then there was perfect silence. How was Elnora to know that 
not a girl there would have told that? 

“I haven’t a doubt but I can get you some,” she offered. “She 
gave Aunt Margaret a large bunch, and those are part of them. 
I am quite sure she has more, and would spare some.” 

Sadie Reed laughed shortly. “You needn’t trouble,” she said. 
“I was fooled. I thought they were expensive quills. I wanted 
them for a twenty-dollar velvet toque to match my new suit. If 
they are gathered from the ground, really, I couldn’t use them.” 

“Only in spots!” said Elnora. “They don’t just cover the earth. 
Phoebe Simms’s peacocks are the only ones within miles of 
Onabasha, and they moult but once a year. If your hat cost 
only twenty dollars, it’s scarcely good enough for those quills. You 
see, the Almighty made and colored those Himself; and He 
puts the same kind on Phoebe Simms’s peacocks that He put on 
the head of the family in the forests of Ceylon, away back in 
the beginning. Any old manufactured quill from New York or 
Chicago will do for your little twenty-dollar hat. You should 
have something infinitely better than that to be worthy of quills 
that are made by the Creator.” 

How those girls did laugh! One of them walked with Elnora 
to the auditorium, sat beside her during exercises, and tried to 
talk whenever she dared, to keep Elnora from seeing the curious 


ELNORA RECEIVES A WARNING 67 

and admiring looks bent upon her. For the brown-eyed boy 
whistled, and there was pantomime of all sorts going on behind 
Elnora’s back that day. Happy with her books, no one knew how 
much she saw, and from her absorption in her studies it was 
evident she cared too little to notice. 

After school she went again to the home of the Bird Woman, 
and together they visited the swamp and carried away more 
specimens. This time Elnora asked the Bird Woman to keep the 
money until noon of the next day, when she would call for it and 
have it added to her bank account. She slowly walked home, for 
the visit to the swamp had brought back full force the experience 
of the morning. Again and again she examined the crude little 
note, for she did not know what it meant, yet it bred vague 
fear. The only thing of which Elnora knew herself afraid was 
her mother; when with wild eyes and ears deaf to childish plead- 
ing, she sometimes lost control of herself in the night and 
visited the pool where her husband had sunk before her, calling 
his name in unearthly tones and begging of the swamp to give 
back its dead. 


CHAPTER VI 


Wherein Mrs. Comstock Indulges in 
“ Frills ” and Billy Reappears 


It was Wesley Sinton who really wrestled with Elnora’s prob- 
lem while he drove about his business. He was not forced to ask 
himself what it meant; he knew. The old Corson gang was still 
holding together. Elder members who had escaped the law had 
been joined by a younger brother of Jack’s, and they met in the 
thickest of the few remaining fast places of the swamp to drink, 
gamble, and loaf. Then suddenly, there would be a robbery in 
some country house where a farmer that day had sold his wheat 
or com and not paid a visit to the bank ; or in some neighboring 
village. 

The home of Mrs. Comstock and Elnora adjoined the swamp. 
Sinton’s land lay next, and not another residence or man easy to 
reach in case of trouble. Whoever wrote that note had some hu- 
man kindness in his breast, but the fact stood revealed that he 
feared his strength if Elnora were delivered into his hands. Where 
had he been the previous night when he heard that prayer? Was 
that the first time he had been in such proximity? Sinton drove 
fast, for he wished to reach the swamp before Elnora and the Bird 
Woman would go there. 

At almost four he came to the case, and dropping on his knees 
studied the ground, every sense alert. He found two or three little 
heel prints. Those were made by Elnora or the Bird Woman. 
What Sinton wanted to learn was whether all the remainder 
were the footprints of one man. It was easily seen, they were 


MRS. COMSTOCK INDULGES IN FRILLS 69 

not. There were deep, even tracks made by fairly new shoes, and 
others where a well-worn heel cut deeper on the inside of the 
print than at the outer edge. Undoubtedly some of Corson’s old 
gang were watching the case, and the visits of the women to it. 
There was no danger that anyone would attack the Bird Woman. 
She never went to the swamp at night, and on her trips in the 
daytime, everyone knew that she carried a revolver, understood 
how to use it, and pursued her work in a fearless manner. 

Elnora, prowling around the swamp and lured into the in- 
terior by the flight of moths and butterflies; Elnora, without 
father, money, or friends save himself, to defend her — Elnora was 
a different proposition. For this to happen just when the Limber- 
lost was bringing the very desire of her heart to the girl, it was too 
bad. 

Sinton was afraid for her, yet he did not want to add the bur- 
den of fear to Katharine Comstock’s trouble, or to disturb the joy 
of Elnora in her work. He stopped at the cabin and slowly went 
up the walk. Mrs. Comstock was sitting on the front steps with 
some sewing. The work seemed to Sinton as if she might be en- 
gaged in putting a tuck in a petticoat. He thought of how Mar- 
garet had shortened Elnora’s dress to the accepted length for girls 
of her age, and made a mental note of Mrs. Comstock’s occupa- 
tion. 

She dropped her work on her lap, laid her hands on it and 
looked into his face with a sneer. 

“You didn’t let any grass grow under your feet,” she said. 

Sinton saw her white, drawn face and comprehended. 

“I went to pay a debt and see about this opening of the ditch, 
Kate.” 

“You said you were going to prosecute me.” 

“Good gracious, Kate!” cried Sinton. “Is that what you have 
been thinking all day? I told you before I left yesterday that I 
would not need do that. And I won’t! We can’t afford to quarrel 
over Elnora. She’s all we’ve got. Now that she has proved that 
if you don’t do just what I think you ought by way of clothes 
and schooling, she can take care of herself, I put that out of my 
head. What I came to see you about is a kind of scare I’ve had 


70 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

today. I want to ask you if you ever see anything about the 
swamp that makes you think the old Corson gang is still at 
work?” 

“Can’t say that I do,” said Mrs. Comstock. “There’s kind of 
dancing lights there sometimes, but I supposed it was just people 
passing along the road with lanterns. Folks hereabout are none 
too fond of the swamp. I hate it like death. I’ve never stayed 
here a night in my life without Robert’s revolver, clean and 
loaded, under my pillow, and the shotgun, same condition, by 
the bed. I can’t say that I’m afraid here at home. I’m not. I can 
take care of myself. But none of the swamp for me!” 

“Well, I’m glad you are not afraid, Kate, because I must tell 
you something. Elnora stopped at the case this morning, and 
somebody had been into it in the night.” 

“Broke the lock?” 

“No. Used a duplicate key. Today I heard there was a man 
here last night. I want to nose around a little.” 

Sinton went to the east end of the cabin and looked up at the 
window. There was no way anyone could have reached it with- 
out a ladder, for the logs were hewed and mortar filled the cracks 
even. Then he went to the west end, the willow faced him as he 
turned the comer. He examined the trunk carefully. There v/as no 
mistake about small particles of black swamp muck adhering to 
the sides of the tree. He reached the low branches and climbed 
the willow. There was earth on the large limb crossing Elnora’s 
window. He stood on it, holding the branch as had been done 
the night before, and looked into the room. He could see very 
little, but he knew that if it had been dark outside and sufficiently 
light for Elnora to study inside he could have seen vividly. He 
brought his face close to the netting, and he could see the bed 
with its head to the east, at its foot the table with the candles and 
the chair before it, and then he knew where the man had been 
who had heard Elnora’s prayer. 

Mrs. Comstock had followed around the comer and stood 
watching him. “Do you think some slinking hulk was up there 
peekin’ in at Elnora?” she demanded indignantly. 

“There is muck on the tmnk, and plenty on the limb,” said 


MRS. COMSTOCK INDULGES IN FRILLS 71 

Sinton. “Hadn’t you better get a saw and let me take this branch 
off?” 

“No, I hadn’t,” said Mrs. Comstock. “First place, Elnora’s 
climbed from that window on that limb all her life, and it’s hers. 
Second place, no one gets ahead of me after I’ve had warning. 
Any crow that perches on that roost again will get its feathers 
somewhat scattered. Look along the fence, there, and see if you 
can find where he came in.” 

The place was easy to find as was a trail leading for some dis- 
tance west of the cabin. 

“You just go home, and don’t fret yourself,” said Mrs. Com- 
stock. “I’ll take care of this. If you should hear the dinner bell at 
any time in the night you come down. But I wouldn’t say any- 
thing to Elnora. She better keep her mind on her studies, if she’s 
going to school.” 

When the work was finished that night Elnora took her books 
and went to her room to prepare some lessons, but every few min- 
utes she looked toward the swamp to see if there were lights near 
the case. Mrs. Comstock raked together the coals in the cooking 
stove, got out the lunch box, and sitting down she studied it 
grimly. At last she arose. 

“Wonder how it would do to show Mag Sinton a frill or two,” 
she murmured. 

She went to her room, knelt before a big black-walnut chest 
and hunted through its contents until she found an old-fashioned 
cook book. She tended the fire as she read and presently was in 
action. She first sawed an end from a fragrant, juicy, sugar-cured 
ham and put it to cook. Then she set a couple of eggs boiling, and 
after long hesitation began creaming butter and sugar in a crock. 
An hour later the odor of the ham, mingled with some of the 
richest spices of “happy Araby,” in a combination that could 
mean nothing save spice cake, crept up to Elnora so strongly that 
she lifted her head and sniffed amazedly. She would have given 
all her precious money to have gone down and thrown her arms 
around her mother’s neck, but she did not dare move. 

Mrs. Comstock was up early, and without a word handed 
Elnora the case as she left the next morning. 


72 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

“Thank you, mother,” said Elnora, and went on her way. 

She walked down the road looking straight ahead until she 
came to the corner, where she usually entered the swamp. She 
paused, glanced that way and smiled. Then she turned and looked 
back. There was no one coming in any direction. She followed 
the road until well around the corner, then she stopped and sat 
on a grassy spot, laid her books beside her and opened the lunch 
box. Last night’s odors had in a measure prepared her for what 
she would see, but not quite. She scarcely could believe her senses. 
Half the bread compartment was filled with dainty sandwiches 
of bread and butter sprinkled with the yolk of egg and the re- 
mainder with three large slices of the most fragrant spice cake 
imaginable. The meat dish contained shaved cold ham, of which 
she knew the quality, the salad was tomatoes and celery, and the 
cup held preserved pear, clear as amber. There was milk in the 
bottle, two tissue-wrapped cucumber pickles in the folding drink- 
ing-cup, and a fresh napkin in the ring. No lunch was ever 
daintier or more palatable ; of that Elnora was perfectly sure. And 
her mother had prepared it for her! “She does love me!” cried 
the happy girl. “Sure as you’re born she loves me; only she hasn’t 
found it out yet!” 

She touched the papers daintily, and smiled at the box as if it 
were a living thing. As she began closing it a breath of air swept 
by, lifting the covering of the cake. It was like an invitation, and 
breakfast was several hours away. Elnora picked up a piece and 
ate it. That cake tasted even better than it looked. Then she tried 
a sandwich. How did her mother come to think of making them 
that way. They never had any at home. She slipped out the fork, 
sampled the salad, and one-quarter of pear. Then she closed the 
box and started down the road nibbling one of the pickles and 
trying to decide exactly how happy she was, but she could find 
no standard high enough for a measure. 

She was to go to the Bird Woman’s after school for the last 
load from the case. Saturday she would take the arrow points and 
specimens to the bank. That would exhaust her present supplies 
and give her enough money ahead to pay for books, tuition, and 
clothes for at least two years. She would work early and late 


MRS. COMSTOCK INDULGES IN FRILLS 73 

gathering nuts. In October she would sell all the ferns she could 
find. She must collect specimens of all tree leaves before they fell, 
gather nests and cocoons later, and keep her eyes wide open for 
anything the grades could use. She would see the superintend- 
ent that night about selling specimens to the ward buildings. 
She must be ahead of anyone else if she wanted to furnish these 
things. So she approached the bridge. 

That it was occupied could be seen from a distance. As she 
came up she found the small boy of yesterday awaiting her with 
a confident smile. 

“We brought you something!” he announced without greet- 
ing. “This is Jimmy and Belle — and we brought you a present.” 

He offered a parcel wrapped in brown paper. 

“Why, how lovely of you!” said Elnora. “I supposed you had 
forgotten me when you ran away so fast yesterday.” 

“Naw, I didn’t forget you,” said the boy. “I wouldn’t forget 
you, not ever! Why, I was ist a-hurrying to take them things to 
Jimmy and Belle. My, they was glad!” 

Elnora glanced at the children. They sat on the edge of the 
bridge, obviously clad in a garment each, very dirty and un- 
kept, a little boy and a girl of about seven and nine. Elnora’s 
heart began to ache. 

“Say,” said the boy. “Ain’t you going to look what we have 
gave you?” 

“I thought it wasn’t polite to look before people,” answered 
Elnora. “Of course, I will, if you would like to have me.” 

Elnora opened the package. She had been presented with a 
quarter of a stale loaf of baker’s bread, and a big piece of ancient 
bologna. 

“But don’t you want this yourselves?” she asked in surprise. 

“Gosh, no ! I mean ist no,” said the boy. “We always have it. 
We got stacks this morning. Pa’s come out of it now, and he’s so 
sorry he got more ’an ever we can eat. Have you had any before?” 

“No,” said Elnora, “I never did!” 

The boy’s eyes brightened and the girl moved restlessly. 

“We thought maybe you hadn’t,” said the boy. “First you 
ever have, you like it real well; but when you don’t have any- 


74 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

thing else for a long time, years an 5 years, you git so tired.” He 
hitched at the string which held his trousers and watched Elnora 
speculatively. 

“I don’t s’ pose you’d trade what you got in that box for ist old 
bread and bologna now, would you? Mebby you’d like it! And I 
know, I ist know, what you got would taste like heaven to Jimmy 
and Belle. They never had nothing like that ! Not even Belle, and 
she’s most ten ! No, sir-ee, they never tasted things like you got !” 

It was in Elnora’s heart to be thankful for even a taste in time, 
as she knelt on the bridge, opened the box and divided her lunch 
into three equal parts, the smaller boy getting most of the milk. 
Then she told them it was school time and she must go. 

“Why don’t you put your bread and bologna in the nice box?” 
asked the boy. 

“Of course,” said Elnora. “I didn’t think.” 

When the box was arranged to the children’s satisfaction all of 
them accompanied Elnora to the comer where she turned toward 
the high school. 

“Billy,” said Elnora, “I would like you much better if you 
were cleaner. Surely, you have water! Can’t you children get 
some soap and wash yourselves? Gentlemen are never dirty. You 
want to be a gentleman, don’t you?” 

“Is being clean all you have to do to be a gentleman?” 

“No,” said Elnora. “You must not say bad words, and you 
must be kind and polite to your sister.” 

“Must Belle be kind and polite to me, else she ain’t a lady?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then Belle’s no lady!” said Billy succinctly. 

Elnora could say nothing more just then, and she bade them 
good-bye and started them home. 

“The poor little souls!” she mused. “I think the Almighty put 
them in my way to show me real trouble. I won’t be likely to 
spend much time pitying myself while I can see them.” She 
glanced at the lunch box. “What on earth do I carry this for? I 
never had anything that was so strictly ornamental! One sure 
thing! I can’t take this stuff to the high school. You never seem 


MRS. COMSTOCK INDULGES IN FRILLS 75 

to know exactly what is going to happen to you while you are 
there.” 

As if to provide a way out of her difficulty a big dog arose from 
a lawn, and came toward the gate wagging his tad. “If those 
children ate the stuff, it can’t possibly kill him!” thought Elnora, 
so she offered the bologna. The dog accepted it graciously, and 
being a beast of pedigree he trotted around to a side porch and 
laid the bologna before his mistress. The woman snatched it, 
screaming: “Come, quick! Someone is trying to poison Pedro!” 
Her daughter came running from the house. “Go see who is on 
the street. Hurry!” cried the excited mother. 

Ellen Brownlee ran and looked. Elnora was half a block away, 
and no one nearer. Ellen called loudly, and Elnora stopped. Ellen 
came running toward her. 

“Did you see anyone give our dog something?” she cried as 
she approached. 

Elnora saw no escape. 

“I gave it a piece of bologna myself,” she said. “It was fit to 
eat. It wouldn’t hurt the dog.” 

Ellen stood and looked at her. “Of course, I didn’t know it 
was your dog,” explained Elnora. “I had something I wanted to 
throw to some dog, and that one looked big enough to manage 
it.” 

Ellen had arrived at her conclusions. “Pass over that lunch 
box,” she demanded. 

“I will not!” said Elnora. 

“Then I will have you arrested for trying to poison our dog,” 
laughed the girl as she took the box. 

“One chunk of stale bread, one half mile of antique bologna 
contributed for dog feed ; the remains of cake, salad and preserves 
in an otherwise empty lunch box. One ham sandwich yesterday. 
I think it’s lovely you have the box. Who ate your lunch today?” 

“Same,” confessed Elnora, “but there were three of them this 
time.” 

“Wait, until I run back and tell mother about the dog, and 
get my books.” 


76 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

Elnora waited. That morning she walked down the hall and 
into the auditorium beside one of the very nicest girls in Ona- 
basha, and it was the fourth day. But the surprise came at noon 
when Ellen insisted upon Elnora lunching at the Brownlee home, 
and convulsed her parents and family, and overwhelmed Elnora 
with a greatly magnified, but moderately accurate history of her 
lunch box. 

“Gee! but it’s a box, daddy!” cried the laughing girl. “It’s 
carved leather and fastens with a strap that has her name on it. 
Inside are trays for things all complete, and it bears evidence of 
having enclosed delicious food, but Elnora never gets any. She’s 
carried it two days now, and both times it has been empty before 
she reached school. Isn’t that killing?” 

“It is, Ellen, in more ways than one. No girl is going to eat 
breakfast at six o’clock, walk three miles, and do good work with- 
out her lunch. You can’t tell me anything about that box. I sold 
it last Monday night to Wesley Sinton, one of my good country 
customers. He told me it was a present for a girl who was worthy 
of it, and I see he was right.” 

“He’s so good to me,” said Elnora. “Sometimes I look at him 
and wonder if a neighbor can be so kind to one, what a real 
father would be like. I envy a girl with a father unspeakably.” 

“You have cause,” said Ellen Brownlee. “A father is the very 
dearest person in the whole round world, except a mother, who 
is just a dear.” The girl, starting to pay tribute to her father, saw 
that she must include her mother, and said the thing before she 
remembered what Mrs. Sinton had told the girls in the store. She 
stopped in dismay. Elnora’s face paled a trifle, but she smiled 
bravely. 

“Then I’m fortunate in having a mother,” she said. 

Mr. Brownlee lingered at the table after the girls had excused 
themselves and returned to school. 

“There’s a girl Ellen can’t see too much of, in my opinion,” 
he said. “She is every inch a lady, and not a foolish notion or 
action about her. I can’t understand just what combination of 
circumstances produced her in this day.” 

“It has been an unusual case of repression, for one thing. She 


MRS. COMSTOCK INDULGES IN FRILLS 77 

waits on her elders and thinks before she speaks,” said Mrs. 
Brownlee. 

“She’s mighty pretty. She looks so sound and wholesome, and 
she’s neatly dressed.” 

“Ellen says she was a fright the first two days. Long brown 
calico dress almost touching the floor, and big, lumbering shoes. 
Those Sinton people bought her clothes. Ellen was in the store, 
and the woman stopped her crowd and asked them about their 
dresses. She said the girl was not poor, but her mother was selfish 
and didn’t care for her. But Elnora showed a bank book the next 
day, and declared that she paid for the things herself, so the Sin- 
ton people must just have selected them. There’s something pe- 
culiar about it, but nothing wrong, I am sure. I’ll encourage Ellen 
to ask her again.” 

“I should say so, especially if she is going to keep on giving 
away her lunch.” 

“She lunched with the Bird Woman one day this week.” 

“She did!” 

“Yes, she lives out by the Limberlost. You know the Bird 
Woman works there a great deal, and probably knows her that 
way. I think the girl gathers specimens for her. Ellen says she 
knows more than the teachers about any nature question that 
comes up, and she is going to lead all of them in mathematics, 
and make them work in any branch.” 

When Elnora entered the coat room after having had lunch- 
eon with Ellen Brownlee there was such a difference in the at- 
mosphere that she could feel it. 

“I am almost sorry I have these clothes,” she said to Ellen. 

“In the name of sense, why?” cried the astonished girl. 

“Everyone is so nice to me in them, it sets me to wondering 
if in time I could have made them be equally friendly in the 
others.” 

Ellen looked at her introspectively. “I believe you could,” she 
announced at last. “But it would have taken time and heartache, 
and your mind would have been less free to work on your studies. 
No one is happy without friends, and I just simply can’t study 
when I am unhappy.” 


78 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

That night the Bird Woman made the last trip to the swamp. 
Every specimen she possibly could use had been purchased at a 
fair price, and three additions had been made to the bank book, 
carrying the total a little past two hundred dollars. There re- 
mained the Indian relics to sell on Saturday, and Elnora had se- 
cured the order to furnish material for nature work for the grades. 
Life suddenly grew very full. There was the most excitingly in- 
teresting work for every hour, and that work was to pay high 
school expenses and start the college fund. There was one little 
rift in her joy. All of it would have been so much better if she 
could have told her mother, and given the money into her keep- 
ing; but the struggle to get a start had been so terrible, Elnora 
was afraid to take the risk. When she reached home, she only told 
her mother that the last of the things had been sold that eve- 
ning. 

“I think,” said Mrs. Comstock, “that we will ask Wesley to 
move that box over here back of the garden for you. There you 
are apt to get tolled farther into the swamp than you intend to go, 
and you might mire or something. There ought to be just the 
same things in our woods, and along our swampy places, as there 
are in the Limberlost. Can’t you hunt your stuff here?” 

“I can try,” said Elnora. “I don’t know what I can find until 
I do. Our woods are undisturbed, and there is a possibility they 
might be even better hunting than the swamp. But I wouldn’t 
have Freckles’s case moved for the world. He might come back 
some day, and not like It. I’ve tried to keep his room the best I 
could, and taking out the box would make a big hole in one side 
of it. Store boxes don’t cost much. I will have Uncle Wesley buy 
me one, and set it up wherever hunting looks the best, early in the 
spring. I would feel safer at home.” 

“Shall we do the work or have supper first?” 

“Let’s do the work,” said Elnora. “I can’t say that I’m hungry 
now. Doesn’t seem as if I ever could be hungry again with such 
a lunch. I am quite sure no one carried more delicious things to 
eat than I.” 

Mrs. Comstock was pleased. “I put in a pretty good hunk of 
cake. Did you divide it with anyone?” 


MRS. COMSTOCK INDULGES IN FRILLS 79 

“Why, yes, I did,” admitted Elnora. 

“Who?” 

This was becoming uncomfortable. “I ate the biggest piece 
myself,” said Elnora, “and gave the rest to a couple of boys 
named Jimmy and Billy and a girl named Belle. They said it was 
the very best cake they ever tasted in all their lives.” 

Mrs. Comstock sat straight. “I used to be a master hand at 
spice cake,” she boasted. “But I’m a little out of practice. I must 
get to work again. With the very weeds growing higher than our 
heads, we should raise plenty of good stuff to eat on this land, if 
we can’t afford anything else but taxes.” 

Elnora laughed and hurried upstairs to change her dress. Mar- 
garet Sinton came that night bringing a beautiful blue one in its 
place, and carried away the other to launder. 

“Do you mean to say those dresses are to be washed every two 
days?” questioned Mrs. Comstock. 

“They have to be, to look fresh,” replied Margaret. “We want 
our girl sweet as a rose.” 

“Well, of all things!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “Every two days! 
Any girl who can’t keep a dress clean longer than that is a dirty 
girl. You’ll wear the goods out and fade the colors with so much 
washing.” 

“We’ll have a clean girl, anyway.” 

“Well, if you like the job you can have it,” said Mrs. Comstock. 
“I don’t mind the washing, but I’m so inconvenient with an 
iron.” 

Elnora sat late that night working over her lessons. The next 
morning she put on her blue dress and ribbon and in those she 
was a picture. Mrs. Comstock caught her breath with a queer 
stirring around her heart, and looked twice to be sure of what 
she saw. As Elnora gathered her books her mother silently gave 
her the lunch box. 

“Feels heavy,” said Elnora gaily. “And smelly! Like as not I’ll 
be called upon to divide again.” 

“Then you divide!” said Mrs. Comstock. “Eating is the one 
thing we don’t have to economize on, Elnora. Spite of all I can 
do food goes to waste in this soil every day. If you can give some 


8o 


A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 


of those city children a taste of the real thing, why, don’t be 
selfish.” 

Elnora went down the road thinking of the city children with 
whom she probably would divide. Of course, the bridge would be 
occupied again. So she stopped and opened the box. 

“I don’t want to be selfish,” murmured Elnora, “but it really 
seems as if I can’t give away this lunch. If mother did not put love 
into it, she’s substituted something that’s likely to fool me.” 

She almost felt her steps lagging as she approached the bridge. 
A very hungry dog had been added to the trio of children. Elnora 
loved all dogs, and as usual, this one came to her in friendliness. 
The children said “Good morning!” with alacrity, and another 
paper parcel lay conspicuous. 

“How are you this morning?” inquired Elnora. 

“All right!” cried the three, while the dog sniffed ravenously at 
the lunch box, and beat a perfect tattoo with his tail. 

“How did you like the bologna?” questioned Billy eagerly. 

“One of the girls took me to lunch at her home yesterday,” an* 
swered Elnora. 

Dawn broke beautifully over Billy’s streaked face. He caught 
the package and thrust it toward Elnora. 

“Then maybe you’d like to try the bologna today!” 

The dog leaped in glad apprehension of something, and Belle 
scrambled to her feet and took a step forward. The look of fam- 
ished greed in her eyes was more than Elnora could endure. It 
was not that she cared for the food so much. Good things to eat 
had been in abundance all her life. She wanted with this lunch 
to try to absorb what she felt must be an expression of some sort 
from her mother, and if it were not a manifestation of love, she 
did not know what to think it. But it was her mother who had 
said “be generous.” She knelt on the bridge. “Keep back the 
dog!” she warned the elder boy. 

She opened the box and divided the milk between Billy and 
the girl. She gave each a piece of cake leaving one and a sand- 
wich. Billy pressed forward eagerly, bitter disappointment on his 
face, and the elder boy forgot his charge. 

“Aw, I thought they’d be meat!” lamented Billy. 


MRS. COMSTOCK INDULGES IN FRILLS 8l 

Elnora could not endure that. 

“There is!” she said gladly. “There is a little pigeon bird. I 
want a teeny piece of the breast, for a sort of keepsake, just one 
bite, and you can have the rest among you.” 

Elnora drew the knife from its holder and cut off the wish- 
bone. Then she held the bird toward the girl. 

“You can divide it,” she said. The dog made a bound and 
seizing the squab sprang from the bridge and ran for life. The 
girl and boy hurried after him. With awful eyes Billy stared and 
swore tempestuously. Elnora caught him and clapped her hand 
over the little mouth. A delivery wagon came tearing down the 
street, the horse running full speed, passed the fleeing dog with 
the girl and boy in pursuit, and stopped at the bridge. High school 
girls began to roll from all sides of it. 

“A rescue! A rescue!” they shouted. 

It was Ellen Brownlee and her crowd, and every girl of them 
carried a big parcel. They took in the scene as they approached. 
The fleeing dog with something in its mouth, the half-naked girl 
and boy chasing it told the story. Those girls screamed with laugh- 
ter as they watched the pursuit. 

“Thank goodness, I saved the wishbone!” said Elnora. “As 
usual, I can prove that there was a bird.” She turned toward 
the box. Billy had improved the time. He had the last piece of 
cake in one hand, and the last bite of salad disappeared in one 
great gulp. Then the girls shouted again. 

“Let’s have a sample ourselves,” suggested one. She caught 
up the box and handed out the remaining sandwich. Another 
girl divided it into bites each little over an inch square, and then 
she lifted the cup lid and deposited a preserved strawberry on 
each bite. “One, two, three, altogether now!” she cried. 

“You old mean things!” screamed Billy. 

In an instant he was down in the road and handfuls of dust 
began to fly among them. The girls scattered before him. 

“Billy!” cried Elnora. “Billy! I’ll never give you another bite, 
if you throw dust on anyone!” 

Then Billy dropped the dust, bored both fists into his eyes, and 
fled sobbing into Elnora’s new blue skirt. She stooped to meet 


82 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

him and consolation began. Those girls laughed on. They 
screamed and shouted until the little bridge shook. 

“Tomorrow might as well be a clear day,” said Ellen, pass- 
ing around and feeding the remaining berries to the girls as they 
could compose themselves enough to take them. “Billy, I admire 
your taste more than your temper.” 

Elnora looked up. “The little soul is nothing but skin and 
bones,” she said. “I never was really hungry myself; were any of 
you?” 

“Well, I should say so,” cried a plump, rosy girl. “I’m fam- 
ished right now. Let’s have breakfast immediate!” 

“We got to refill this box first!” said Ellen Brownlee. “Who’s 
got the butter?” A girl advanced with a wooden tray. 

“Put it in the preserve cup, a little strawberry flavor won’t 
hurt it. Next!” called Ellen. 

A loaf of bread was produced and Ellen cut off a piece which 
filled the sandwich box. 

“Next!” A bottle of olives was unwrapped. The grocer’s boy 
who was waiting opened that, and Ellen filled the salad dish. 

“Next!” 

A bag of macaroons was produced and the cake compartment 
filled. 

“Next!” 

“I don’t suppose this will make quite as good dog feed as a 
bird,” laughed a girl holding open a bag of sliced ham while 
Ellen filled the meat dish. 

“Next!” 

A box of candy was handed her and she stuffed every comer 
of the lunch box with chocolates and nougat. Then it was closed 
and formally presented to Elnora. The girls each helped them- 
selves to candy and olives, and gave Billy the remainder of the 
food. Billy took one bite of ham, and approved. Belle and Jimmy 
had given up chasing the dog, and angry and ashamed, stood 
waiting half a block away. 

“Come back!” cried Billy. “You great big dunces, come back! 
They’s a new kind of meat, and cake and candy.” 

The boy delayed, but the girl joined Billy. Ellen wiped her fin- 


MRS. COMSTOCK INDULGES IN FRILLS 83 

gers, stepped to the cement abutment and began reciting “Ho- 
ratio at the Bridge!” substituting Elnora wherever the hero ap- 
peared in the lines. 

Elnora gathered up the sacks, and gave them to Belle, telling 
her to take the food home, cut and spread the bread, set things on 
the table, and eat nicely. 

Then Elnora was taken into the wagon with the girls, and 
driven on the run to the high school. They sang a song begin- 
ning— 

“Elnora, please give me a sandwich. 

Em ashamed to ask for cake” 

as they went. Elnora did not know it, but that was her initiation. 
She belonged to “the crowd.” She only knew that she was happy, 
and vaguely wondered what her mother and Aunt Margaret 
would have said about the proceedings. 


CHAPTER VII 


Wherein Mrs. Comstock Manipulates 
Margaret, and Billy Acquires a Residence 


Saturday morning Elnora helped her mother with the work. 
When she had finished Mrs. Comstock told her to go to Simons* 
and wash her Indian relics, so that she would be ready to accom- 
pany Wesley to town in the afternoon. Elnora hurried down the 
road and was soon at the cistern with a tub busily washing arrow 
points, stone axes, tubes, pipes, and skin-cleaning implements. 

Then she went home, dressed and was waiting when the car- 
riage reached the gate. She stopped at the bank with the box, and 
Sinton went to do his marketing and some shopping for his wife. 

At the drygoods store Mr. Brownlee called to him: “Hello, 
Sinton ! How do you like the fate of your lunch box?” Then he 
began to laugh. 

“I always hate to see a man laughing alone,” said Sinton. “It 
looks so selfish ! Tell me the fun, and let me help you.” 

Mr. Brownlee wiped his eyes. 

“I supposed you knew, but I see she hasn’t told.” 

Then the three days’ history of the lunch box was repeated 
with particulars which included the dog. 

“Now laugh!” concluded Mr. Brownlee. 

“Blest if I see anything funny!” replied Wesley Sinton. “And. 
if you had bought that box and furnished one of those lunches 
yourself, you wouldn’t either. I call such a work a shame! I’ll 
have it stopped.” 

“Someone must see to that, all right. They are little leeches. 


MRS. COMSTOCK AND MARGARET 85 

Their father earns enough to support them, but they have no 
mother, and they run wild. I suppose they are crazy for cooked 
food. But it is funny, and when you think it over you will see it, if 
you don’t now.” 

“About where would a body find that father?” inquired Wesley 
Sinton grimly. Mr. Brownlee told him and he started, locating the 
house with little difficulty. House was the proper word, for of 
home there was no sign. Just a small empty house with three un- 
kept little children racing through and around it. The girl and 
the elder boy hung back, but dirty little Billy greeted Sinton with : 
“What you want here?” 

“I want to see your father,” said Sinton. 

“Well, he’s asleep,” said Billy. 

“Where?” asked Sinton. 

“In the house,” answered Billy, “and you can’t wake him.” 

“Well, I’ll try,” said Wesley. 

Billy led the way. “There he is!” he said. “He is drunk again.” 

On a dirty mattress in a comer lay a man who appeared to be 
strong and well. Billy was right. You could not awake him. He 
had gone the limit, and a little beyond. He was now facing eter- 
nity. Sinton went out and closed the door. 

“Your father is sick and needs help,” he said. “You stay here, 
and I will send a man to see him.” 

“If you just let him ’lone, he’ll sleep it off,” volunteered Billy. 
“He’s that way all the time, but he wakes up and gets us some- 
thing to eat after awhile. Only waitin’ twists you up inside pretty 
bad.” 

The boy wore no air of complaint. He was merely stating facts. 

Wesley Sinton looked intently at Billy. “Are you twisted up in- 
side now?” he asked. 

Billy laid a grimy hand on the region of his stomach and the 
filthy little waist sank close to the backbone. “Bet yer life, boss,” 
he said cheerfully. 

“How long have you been twisted?” asked Sinton. 

Billy appealed to the others. “When was it we had the stuff on 
the bridge?” 

“Yesterday morning,” said the girl. 


86 


A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 


“Is that all gone?” asked Sinton. 

“She went and told us to take it home,” said Billy ruefully, 
“and ’cos she said to, we took it. Pa had come back, he was 
drinking some more, and he ate a lot of it — almost the whole 
thing, and it made him sick as a dog, and he went and wasted 
all of it. Then he got drunk some more, and now he’s asleep 
again. We didn’t get hardly none.” 

“You children sit on the steps until the man comes,” said Sin- 
ton. “I’ll send you some things to eat with him. What’s your 
name, sonny?” 

“Billy,” said the boy. 

“Well, Billy, I guess you better come with me. I’ll take care 
of him,” Sinton promised the others. He reached a hand to Billy. 

“I ain’t no baby, I’m a boy!” said Billy, as he shuffled along 
beside Sinton, taking a kick at every movable object without 
regard to his battered toes. 

Once they passed a Great Dane dog lolling after its master, 
and Billy ascended Sinton as if he were a tree, and clung to him 
with trembling hot hands. 

“I ain’t afraid of that dog,” scoffed Billy, as he was again 
placed on the walk, “but onc’t he took me for a rat or somepin’ 
and his teeth cut into my back. If I’d ’a’ done right, I’d ’a’ took the 
law on him.” 

Sinton looked down into the indignant little face. The child 
was bright enough, he had a good head, but oh, such a body ! 

“I ’bout got enough of dogs,” said Billy. “I used to like ’em, 
but I’m getting pretty tired. You ought to seen the lickin’ Jimmy 
and Belle and me give our dog when we caught him, for taking a 
little bird she gave us. We waited till he was asleep ’nen laid a 
board on him and all of us jumped on it to onc’t. You could ’a’ 
heard him yell a mile. Belle said mebbe we could squeeze the 
bird out of him. But, squeeze nothing ! He was holler as us, and 
that bird was lost long ’fore it got to his stummick. It was ist a 
little one, anyway. Belle said it wouldn’t ’a’ made a bite apiece 
for three of us nohow, and the dog got one good swaller. We 
didn’t get much of the meat, either. Pa took most of that. Seems 
like pas and dogs gets everything.” 


MRS. COMSTOCK AND MARGARET 87 

Billy laughed dolefully. Involuntarily Wesley Sinton reached 
his hand. They were coming into the business part of Onabasha 
and the streets were crowded. Billy understood it to mean that he 
might lose his companion and took a grip. That little hot hand 
clinging tight to his, the sore feet recklessly scouring the walk, 
the hungry child panting for breath as he tried to keep even, the 
brave soul jesting in the face of hard luck, caught Sinton in a 
tender, empty spot. 

“Say, son,” he said. “How would you like to be washed clean, 
and have all the supper your skin could hold, and sleep in a good 
bed?” 

“Aw, gee!” said Billy. “I ain’t dead yet! Them things is in 
heaven ! Poor folks can’t have them. Pa said so.” 

“Well, you can have them if you want to go with me and get 
them,” promised Sinton. 

“Honest?” 

“Yes, honest.” 

“Crost yer heart?” 

“Yes,” said Sinton. 

“Kin I take some to Jimmy and Belle?” 

“If you’ll come with me and be my boy, I’ll see that they have 
plenty.” 

“What will pa say?” 

“Your pa is in that kind of sleep now where he won’t wake 
up, Billy,” said Sinton. “I am pretty sure the law will give you 
to me, if you want to come.” 

“When people don’t ever wake up they’re dead,” announced 
Billy. “Is my pa dead?” 

“Yes, he is,” answered Sinton. 

“And you’ll take care of Jimmy and Belle, too?” 

“I can’t adopt all three of you,” said Sinton. “I’ll take you, 
and see that they are well provided for. Will you come?” 

“Yep, I’ll come,” said Billy. “Let’s eat, first thing we do.” 

“All right,” agreed Sinton. “Come into this restaurant.” He 
lifted Bilb to the lunch counter and ordered the clerk to give 
him as many glasses of milk as he wanted, and a biscuit. “I think 


88 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

there’s going to be fried chicken when we get home, Billy,” he 
said, “so you just take the edge off now, and fill up later.” 

While Billy lunched Sinton called up the different departments 
and notified the proper authorities ending with the Women’s Re- 
lief Association. He sent a basket of food to Belle and Jimmy, 
bought Billy a pair of trousers, and a shirt, and went to bring 
Elnora. 

“Why, Uncle Wesley!” cried the girl. “Where did you find 
Billy?” 

“I’ve adopted him for the time being, if not longer,” replied 
Wesley Sinton. 

“Where did you get him?” 

“Well, young woman,” said Wesley Sinton, “Mr. Brownlee told 
me the history of your lunch box. It didn’t seem so funny to me 
as it does to the rest of them; so I went to look up the father of 
Billy’s family, and make him take care of them, or allow the law 
to do it for him. It will have to be the law.” 

“He’s deader than anything!” broke in Billy. “He can’t ever 
take all the meat any more.” 

“Billy!” gasped Elnora. 

“Never you mind!” said Sinton. “A child doesn’t say such 
things about a father who loved and raised him right. When it 
happens, the father alone is to blame. You won’t hear Billy talk 
like that about me when I cross over.” 

“You don’t mean you are going to take him to keep!” 

“I’ll soon need help,” said Wesley. “Billy will come in just 
about right ten years from now, and if I raise him I’ll have him 
the way I want him.” 

“But Aunt Margaret doesn’t like boys,” objected Elnora. 

“Well, she likes me, and I used to be a boy. Anyway, as I 
remember she has had her way about everything at our house 
ever since we were married. I am going to please myself about 
Billy. Hasn’t she always done just as she chose so far as you know? 
Honest, Elnora!” 

“Honest!” replied Elnora. “You are beautiful to all of us, 
Uncle Wesley; but Aunt Margaret won’t like Billy. She won’t 
want him in her home.” 


MRS. COMSTOCK AND MARGARET 89 

“In our home,” corrected Wesley. 

“What makes you want him?” marveled Elnora. 

“God only knows,” said Sinton. “Billy ain’t so beautiful, and 
he ain’t so smart, I guess it’s because he’s so human. My heart 
goes out to him.” 

“So did mine,” said Elnora. “I love him. I’d rather see him eat 
my lunch than have it myself any time.” 

“What makes you like him?” asked Wesley. 

“Why, I don’t know,” pondered Elnora. “He’s so little, he 
needs so much, he’s got such splendid grit, and he’s perfectly 
unselfish with his brother and sister. But we must wash him be- 
fore Aunt Margaret sees him. I wonder if mother ” 

“You needn’t bother. I’m going to take him home the way he 
is,” said Sinton. “I want Maggie to see the worst of it.” 

“I’m afraid ” began Elnora. 

“So am I,” said Wesley, “but I won’t give him up. He’s taken 
a sort of grip on my heart. I’ve always been crazy for a boy. Don’t 
let him hear us.” 

“Don’t let him be killed!” cried Elnora. During their talk Billy 
had wandered to the edge of the walk and barely escaped the 
wheels of a passing automobile in an effort to catch a stray kitten 
that seemed in danger. 

Wesley drew Billy back to the walk, and held his hand closely. 
“Are you ready, Elnora?” 

“Yes; you were gone a long time,” she said. 

Wesley glanced at a package she carried. “Have to have 
another book?” he asked. 

“No, I bought this for mother. I’ve had such splendid luck 
selling my specimens, I didn’t feel right about keeping all the 
money for myself, so I saved enough from the Indian relics to get 
a few things I wanted. I would have liked to have gotten her a 
dress, but I didn’t dare, so I compromised on a book.” 

“What did you select, Elnora?” asked Wesley wonderingly. 

“Well,” said she, “I have noticed mother always seemed 
interested in anything Mark Twain wrote in the newspapers, and 
I thought it would cheer her up a little, so I just got his ‘Inno- 


90 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

cents Abroad.’ I haven’t read it myself, but I’ve seen mention 
made of it all my life, and the critics say it’s genuine fun.” 

“Good!” cried Sinton. “Good! You’ve made a splendid 
choice. It will take her mind off herself a lot. But she will scold 
you.” 

“Of course,” assented Elnora. “But possibly she will read it, 
and feel better. I’m going to serve her a trick. I am going to hide 
it until Monday, and set it on her little shelf of books the last 
thing before I go away. She must have all of them by heart. When 
she sees a new one she can’t help being glad, for she loves to read, 
and if she has all day to become interested, maybe she’ll like it 
so she won’t scold so much.” 

“We are both in for it, but I guess we are prepared. I don’t 
know what Margaret will say, but I’m going to take Billy home 
and see. Maybe he can win with her, as he did with us.” 

Elnora had doubts, but she did not say anything more. When 
they started home Billy sat on the front seat. He drove with the 
hitching strap tied to the railing of the dashboard, flourished the 
whip, and yelled with delight. At first Sinton laughed with him, 
but by the time he left Elnora with several packages at her gate, 
he was looking serious enough. 

Margaret was at the door as they drove up the lane. Wesley 
left Billy in the carriage, hitched the horses and went to explain 
to her. He had not reached her before she cried, “Look, Wesley, 
that child! You’ll have a runaway!” 

Wesley looked and ran. Billy was standing in the carriage slash- 
ing the mettlesome horses with the whip. 

“See me make ’em go !” he shouted as the whip fell a second 
time. 

He did make them go. They took the hitching posts and a few 
fence palings, which scraped the paint from a wheel. Sinton 
missed the lines at the first effort, but the dragging post impeded 
the horses, and he soon caught them. He led them to the bam, 
and ordered Billy to remain in the carriage while he unhitched. 
Then leading Billy and carrying his packages he entered the yard. 

“You run play a few minutes, Billy,” he said. “I want to talk 
to the nice lady.” 


MRS. COMSTOCK AND MARGARET gi 

The nice lady was looking rather stupefied as Wesley ap* 
proached her. 

“Where in the name of sense did you get that awful child?” 
she demanded. 

“He is a young gentleman who has been stopping Elnora and 
eating her lunch every day, part of the time with the assistance of 
his brother and sister, while our girl went hungry. Brownlee told 
me about it at the store. It’s happened three days running. The 
first time she went without anything, the second time Brownlee’s 
girl took her to lunch, and the third a crowd of high school girls 
bought a lot of stuff and met them at the bridge. The youngsters 
seemed to think they could rob her every day, so I went to see 
their father about having it stopped.” 

“Well, I should think so!” cried Margaret. 

“There were three of them, Margaret,” said Wesley, “that little 
fellow ” 

“Hyena, you mean,” interpolated Margaret. 

“Hyena,” corrected Wesley gravely, “and another boy and a 
girl, all equally dirty and hungry. The man was dead. They 
thought he was in a drunken sleep, but he was stone dead. I 
brought the little boy with me, and sent the officers and other 
help to the house. He’s half starved. I want to wash him, and put 
clean clothes on him, and give him some supper.” 

“Have you got anything to put on him?” 

“Yes.” 

“Where did you get it?” 

“Bought it. It ain’t much. All I got didn’t cost a dollar.” 

“A dollar is a good deal when you work and save for it the way 
we do.” 

“Well, I don’t know a better place to put it. Have you got 
any hot water? I’ll use this tub at the cistern. Please give me some 
soap and towels.” 

Instead Margaret pushed by him with a shriek. Billy had 
played by producing a cord from his pocket, and having tied the 
tails of Margaret’s white kittens together, he had climbed on a 
box and hung them across the clothes line. Wild with fright the 
kittens were clawing each other to death, and the air was white 


92 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

with fur. The string had twisted and the frightened creatures 
could not recognize friends. Margaret stepped back with bleed- 
ing hands. Sinton cut the cord with his knife and the poor little 
cats raced under the house bleeding and disfigured. Margaret 
white with wrath faced Wesley. 

“If you don’t hitch up and take that animal back to town,” 
she said, “I will.” 

Billy threw himself on the grass and began to scream. 

“You said I could have fried chicken for supper,” he wailed. 
“You said she was a nice lady!” 

Wesley lifted him and something in his manner of handling 
the child infuriated Margaret. His touch was so gentle. She 
reached for Billy and gripped his shirt collar in the back. Wesley’s 
hand closed over hers. 

“Gently, girl!” he said. “This little body is covered with sores.” 

“Sores!” she ejaculated. “Sores? What kind of sores?” 

“Oh, they might be from bruises made by fists or boot toes, 
or they might be bad blood, from wrong eating, or they might 
be pure filth. Will you hand me some towels?” 

“No, I won’t!” said Margaret. 

“Well, give me some rags, then.” 

Margaret compromised on pieces of old tablecloth. Wesley led 
Billy to the cistern, pumped cold water into the tub, poured in a 
kettle of hot, and beginning at the head scoured him. The boy 
shut his little teeth, and said never a word though he twisted 
occasionally when the soap struck a raw spot. Margaret watched 
the process from the window in amazed and ever-increasing 
anger. Where did Wesley learn it? How could his big hands be so 
gentle? He came to the door. 

“Have you got any peroxide?” he asked. 

“A little,” she answered stiffly. 

“Well, I need about a pint, but I’ll begin on what you have.” 

Margaret handed him the bottle. Wesley took a cup, weakened 
the drug and said to Billy: “Man, these sores on you must be 
healed. Then you must eat the kind of food that’s fit for little men. 
I am going to put some medicine on you, and it is going to sting 
like fire. If it just runs off, I won’t use any more. If it boils, there 


MRS. COMSTOCK AND MARGARET 93 

is poison in these places, and they must be tied up, dosed every 
day, and you must be washed, and kept mighty clean. Now, hold 
still, because I am going to put it on . 55 

“I think the one on my leg is the worst,” said the undaunted 
Billy, holding out a raw place. Sinton poured on the drug. Billy’s 
body twisted and writhed, but he did not run. 

“Gee, look at it boil!” he cried. “I guess they’s poison. You’ll 
have to do it to all of them.” 

Wesley’s teeth were set, as he watched the boy’s face. He 
poured the drug, strong enough to do effective work, on a dozen 
places over that little body and bandaged all he could. Billy’s 
lips quivered at times, and his chin jumped, but he did not shed 
a tear or utter a sound other than to take a deep interest in the 
boiling. As Wesley put the small shirt on the boy, and fastened 
the trousers, he was ready to reset the hitching post and mend 
the fence without a word. 

“Now am I clean?” asked Billy. 

“Yes, you are clean outside,” said Wesley. “There is some dirty 
blood in your body, and some bad words in your mouth, that we 
have to get out, but that takes time. If we put right things to eat 
into your stomach that will do away with the sores, and if you 
know that I don’t like bad words you won’t say them any oftener 
than you can help, will you, Billy?” 

Billy leaned against Wesley in apparent indifference. 

“I want to see me!” he demanded. 

Wesley led the boy into the house, and lifted him to a mirror. 

“My, I’m purty good-looking, ain’t I?” bragged Billy. Then 
as Wesley stooped to set him on the floor Billy’s lips passed close 
to the big man’s ear and hastily whispered a vehement “No!” 
as he ran for the door. 

“How long until supper, Margaret?” asked Wesley as he fol- 
lowed. 

“You are going to keep him for supper?” she asked. 

“Sure!” said Wesley. “That’s what I brought him for. It’s 
likely he never had a good square meal of decent food in his 
life. He’s starved to the bone.” 

Margaret arose deliberately, removed the white cloth from the 


94 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

supper table and substituted an old red one she used to wrap the 
bread. She put away the pretty dishes they commonly used and 
set the table with old plates for pies and kitchen utensils. But she 
fried the chicken, and was generous with milk and honey, snowy 
bread, gravy, potatoes, and fruit. 

Wesley repainted the scratched wheel. He mended the fence, 
with Billy holding the nails and handing the pickets. Then he 
filled the old hole, dug a new one and set the hitching post. 

Billy hopped on one foot at his task of holding the post steady 
as the earth was packed around it. There was not the shadow of 
a trouble on his little freckled face. Sinton threw in stones and 
pounded the earth solid around the post. The sound of a gulping 
sob attracted him to Billy. The tears were rolling down his 
cheeks. “If I’d ’a’ knowed you’d have to get down in a hole and 
work so hard, I wouldn’t ’a’ hit the horses,” he said. 

“Never you mind, Billy,” said Wesley. “You will know next 
time, so you can think over it, and make up your mind whether 
you really want to before you strike.” 

Wesley went to the barn to put away the tools. He thought Billy 
was at his heels, but the boy lagged on the way. A big snowy 
turkey gobbler resented the small intruder in his especial pre- 
serves, and with spread tail and dragging wings came toward him 
threateningly. If that turkey gobbler had known the sort of 
things with which Billy was accustomed to holding his own, he 
never would have issued the challenge. Billy accepted instantly. He 
danced around with stiff arms at his sides and imitated the gob- 
bler. Then came his opportunity, and he jumped on the big 
turkey’s back. Wesley heard Margaret’s scream in time to see 
the flying leap and admire its dexterity. The turkey tucked its tail 
and scampered. Billy slid from its back and as he fell he clutched 
wildly, caught the folded tail, and instinctively clung to it. The 
turkey gave one scream and relaxed its muscles. Then it fled in 
disfigured defeat to the haystack. Billy scrambled to his feet 
holding the tail, while his eyes were bulging. 

“Why, the blasted old thing came off!” he said to Wesley, 
holding out the tail in amazed wonder. 

The man, caught suddenly, forgot everything and roared. 


MRS. COMSTOCK AND MARGARET 95 

Seeing which, Billy thought a turkey tail of no account and flung 
that one high above him shouting in wild childish laughter, when 
the feathers scattered and fell. 

Margaret, watching, began to cry. Wesley had gone mad. For 
the first time in her married life she wanted to tell her mother. 
When Wesley had waited until he was so hungry he could wait no 
longer he invaded the kitchen to find a cooked supper baking on 
the back of the stove, while Margaret with red eyes nursed a pair 
of demoralized white kittens. 

“Is supper ready?” he asked. 

“It has been for an hour,” answered Margaret. 

“Why didn’t you call us?” 

That “us” had too much comradeship in it. It irritated Mar- 
garet. 

“I supposed it would take you even longer than this to fix 
things decent again. As for my turkey, and my poor little kittens, 
thev don’t matter.” 

“I am mighty sorry about them, Margaret, you know that. Billy 
is very bright, and he will soon learn ” 

“ ‘Soon learn’ !” cried Margaret. “Wesley Sinton, you don’t 
mean to say that you think of keeping that creature here for some 
time?” 

“No, I think of keeping a well-behaved little boy.” 

Margaret set the supper on the table. Seeing the old red cloth 
Wesley stared in amazement. Then he understood. Billy capered 
around in delight. 

“Ain’t that pretty?” he exulted. “I wish Jimmy and Belle could 
see. We, why we ist eat out of our hands or off a old drygoods box, 
and when we fix up a lot, we have newspaper. We ain’t ever had 
a nice red cloth like this.” 

Wesley looked straight at Margaret, so intently that she turned 
away, her face flushing. He stacked the dictionary and the geog- 
raphy of the world on a chair, and lifted Billy beside him. He 
heaped a plate generously, cut the food, put a fork into Billy’s 
little fist, and made him eat slowly and properly. Billy did his 
best. Occasionally greed overcame him, and he used his left hand 
to pop a bite into his mouth with his fingers. These lapses Wesley 


96 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

patiently overlooked, and went on with his general instructions. 
Luckily Billy did not spill anything on his clothing or the cloth. 
After supper Wesley took him to the bam while he finished the 
night work. Then he went and sat beside Margaret on the front 
porch. Billy appropriated the hammock, and swung by pulling a 
rope tied around a tree. The very energy with which he went 
at the work of swinging himself appealed to Wesley. 

“Mercy, but he’s an active little body,” he said. “There isn’t 
a lazy bone in him. See how he works to pay for his fun.” 

“There goes his foot through it!” cried Margaret. “Wesley, he 
shall not ruin my hammock.” 

“Of course he shan’t!” said Wesley. “Wait, Billy, let me show 
you.” 

Thereupon he explained to Billy that ladies wearing beautiful 
white dresses sat in hammocks, so little boys must not put their 
dusty feet in them. Billy immediately sat, and allowed his feet 
to swing. 

“Margaret,” said Wesley after a long silence on the porch, 
“isn’t it true that if Billy had been a half-starved sore cat, dog, or 
animal of any sort, that you would have pitied, and helped care 
for it, and been glad to see me get any pleasure out of it I could?” 

“Yes,” said Margaret coldly. 

“But because I brought a child with an immortal soul, there is 
no welcome.” 

“That isn’t a child, it’s an animal.” 

“You just said you would have welcomed an animal.” 

“Not a wild one. I meant a tame beast.” 

“Billy is not a beast!” said Wesley hotly. “He is a very dear 
little boy. Margaret, you’ve always done the churchgoing and 
Bible reading for this family. How do you reconcile that ‘Suffer 
little children to come unto Me’ with the way you are treating 
Billy?” 

Margaret arose. “I haven’t treated that child. I have only let 
him alone. I can barely hold myself. He needs the hide tanned 
about off him!” 

“If you’d cared to look at his body, you’d know that you 
couldn’t find a place to strike without cutting into a raw spot,” 


MRS. COMSTOCK AND MARGARET 97 

said Wesley. “Besides, Billy has not done a thing for which a 
child should be punished. He is only full of life, no training, and 
with a boy’s love of mischief. He did abuse /our kittens, but an 
hour before I saw him risk his life to save one from being run 
over. He minds what you tell him, and doesn’t do anything he is 
told not to. He thinks of his brother and sister right away when 
anything pleases him. He took that stinging medicine with the 
grit of a bulldog. He is just a bully little chap, and I love him.” 

“Oh, good heavens!” cried Margaret, going into the house as 
she spoke. 

Sinton sat still. At last Billy tired of the swing, came to him 
and leaned his slight body against the big knee. 

“Am I going to sleep here?” he asked. 

“Sure you are!” said Sinton. 

Billy swung his feet as he laid across Wesley’s knee. “Come on,” 
said Wesley, “I must clean you up for bed.” 

“You have to be just awful clean here,” announced Billy. “I 
like to be clean, you feel so good, after the hurt is over.” 

Sinton registered that remark, and worked with especial tender- 
ness as he redressed the ailing places and washed the dust from 
Billy’s feet and hands. 

“Where can he sleep?” he asked Margaret. 

“I’m sure I don’t know,” she answered. 

“Oh, I can sleep ist any place,” said Billy. “On the floor or 
anywhere. Home, I sleep on pa’s coat on a storebox, and Jimmy 
and Belle they sleep on the storebox, too. I sleep between them, 
so’s I don’t roll off and crack my head. Ain’t you got a storebox 
and a old coat?” 

Wesley arose and opened a folding lounge. Then he brought 
an armload of clean horse blankets from a closet. 

“These don’t look like the nice white bed a little boy should 
have, Billy,” he said, “but we’ll make them do. This will beat a 
storebox all hollow.” 

Billy took a long leap for the lounge. When he found it bounced, 
he proceeded to bounce, until he was tired. By that time the 
blankets had to be refolded. Wesley had Billy take one end and 
help, while both of them seemed to enjoy the job. Then Billy lay 


98 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

down and curled up in his clothes like a small dog. But sleep 
would not come. Finally he sat up. He stared around restlessly. 
Then he arose, went to Wesley, and leaned against his knee. He 
picked up the boy and folded his arms around him. Billy sighed 
in rapturous content. 

“That bed feels so lost like,” he said. “Jimmy always jabbed 
me on one side, and Belle on the other, and so I knew I was there. 
Do you know where they are?” 

“They are with kind people who gave them a fine supper, a 
clean bed, and will always take good care of them.” 

“I wisht I was” Billy hesitated and looked earnestly at 

Wesley. “I mean I wish they was here.” 

“You are about all I can manage, Billy,” said Wesley. 

Billy sat up. “Can’t she manage anything?” he asked, waving 
toward Margaret. 

“Indeed, yes,” said Wesley. “She has managed me for twenty 
years.” 

“My, but she made you nice!” said Billy. “I just love you. 
I wisht she’d take Jimmy and Belle and make them nice as you.” 

“She isn’t strong enough to do that, Billy. They will grow into 
a good boy and girl where they are.” 

Billy slid from Wesley’s arms and walked toward Margaret 
until he reached the middle of the room. Then he stopped, and 
at last sat on the floor. Finally he lay down and closed his eyes. 
“This feels more like my bed; if only Jimmy and Belle was here 
to crowd up a little, so it wasn’t so alone like.” 

“Won’t I do, Billy?” asked Wesley in a husky voice. 

Billy moved restlessly. “Seems like — seems like — toward night 
as if a body got kind o’ lonesome for a woman person — like her.” 

Billy indicated Margaret and then closed his eyes so tight his 
small face wrinkled. 

Soon he was up again. “ ’Wisht I had Snap,” he said. “Oh, I 
ist wisht I had Snap!” 

“I thought you laid a board on Snap and jumped on it,” said 
Wesley. 

“We did!” cried Billy — “oh, you ought to heard him squeal!” 
Billy laughed loudly, then his face clouded. “But I want Snap 


MRS. COMSTOCK AND MARGARET 99 

to lay beside me so bad now — that if he was here I’d give him 
a piece of my chicken ’fore I ate any. Do you like dogs?” 

“Yes, I do,” said Wesley. 

Billy was up instantly. “Would you like Snap?” 

“I am sure I would,” said Wesley. 

“Would she?” Billy indicated Margaret. And then he answered 
his own question. “But of course, she wouldn’t, cos she likes cats, 
and dogs chases cats. Oh dear, I thought for a minute maybe 
Snap could come here.” Billy lay down and closed his eyes 
resolutely. 

Suddenly they flew open. “Does it hurt to be dead?” he 
demanded. 

“Nothing hurts you after you are dead, Billy,” said Wesley. 

“Yes, but I mean does it hurt getting to be dead?” 

“Sometimes it does. It did not hurt your father, Billy. It came 
softly while he was asleep.” 

“It ist came softly?” 

“Yes.” 

“I kind o’ wisht he wasn’t dead!” said Billy. “Course I like 
to stay with you, and the fried chicken, and the nice soft bed, and 
— and everything, and I like to be clean, but he took us to the 
show, and he got us gum, and he never hurt us when he wasn’t 
drunk.” 

Billy drew a deep breath, and tightly closed his eyes. But very 
soon they opened. Then he sat up. He looked at Wesley pitifully, 
and then he glanced at Margaret. “You don’t like boys, do you?” 
he questioned. 

“I like good boys,” said Margaret. 

Billy was at her knee instantly. “Well say, I’m a good boy!” 
he announced joyously. 

“I do not think boys who hurt helpless kittens and pull out 
turkeys’ tails are good boys.” 

“Yes, but I didn’t hurt the kittens,” explained Billy. “They got 
mad ’bout ist a little fun and scratched each other. I didn’t 
s’pose they’d act like that. And I didn’t pull the turkey’s tail. I ist 
held on to the first thing I grabbed, and the turkey pulled. Honest, 
it was the turkey pulled.” He turned to Wesley. “You tell her! 


IOO A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

Didn’t the turkey pull? I didn’t know its tail was loose, did I?” 

“I don’t think you did, Billy,” said Wesley. 

Billy stared into Margaret’s cold face. “Sometimes at night, 
Belle sits on the floor, and I lay my head in her lap. I could pull 
up a chair and lay my head in your lap. Like this, I mean.” Billy 
pulled up a chair, climbed on it and laid his head on Margaret’s 
lap. Then he shut his eyes again. Margaret could have looked 
little more repulsed if he had been a snake. Billy was soon up. 

“My, but your lap is hard,” he said. “And you are a good deal 
fatter ’an Belle, too !” He slid from the chair and came back to 
the middle of the room. 

“Oh but I wisht he wasn’t dead!” he cried. The flood broke 
and Billy screamed in desperation. 

Out of the night a soft, warm young figure flashed through 
the door and with a swoop caught him in her arms. She dropped 
into a chair, nestled him closely, drooped her fragrant brown head 
over his little bullet-eyed red one, and rocked softly while she 
crooned over him — 

“Billy, boy , where have you been? 

Oh, 1 have been to seek a wife, 

She's the joy of my life. 

But then she's a young thing and she can't leave her mammy!" 

Billy clung to her frantically. Elnora wiped his eyes, kissed his 
face, swayed and sang. 

“Why aren’t you asleep?” she asked at last. 

“I don’t know,” said Billy. “I tried. I tried awful hard cos 
I thought he wanted me to, but it ist wouldn’t come. Please tell 
her I tried.” He appealed to Margaret. 

“He did try to go to sleep,” admitted Margaret. 

“Maybe he can’t sleep in his clothes,” suggested Elnora. 
“Haven’t you an old dressing sacque? I could roll the sleeves.” 

Margaret got an old sacque, and Elnora put it on Billy. Then 
she brought a basin of water and bathed his face and head. 
She gathered him up and began to rock again. 

“Have you got a pa?” asked Billy. 

“No,” said Elnora. 


MRS. COMSTOCK AND MARGARET 101 

“Is he dead like mine?” 

“Yes.” 

“Did it hurt him to die?” 

“I don’t know.” 

Billy was wide awake again. “It didn’t hurt my pa,” he 
boasted. “He ist died while he was asleep. He didn’t even know it 
was coming.” 

“I am glad of that,” said Elnora, pressing the small head 
against her breast again. 

Billy escaped her hand and sat up. “I guess I won’t go to 
sleep,” he said. “It might ‘come softly’ and get me.” 

“It won’t get you, Billy,” said Elnora, rocking and singing 
between sentences. “It doesn’t get little boys. It just takes big 
people who are sick.” 

“Was my pa sick?” 

“Yes,” said Elnora. “He had a dreadful sickness inside him 
that burned, and made him drink things. That was why he would 
forget his little boys and girl. If he had been well, he would have 
gotten you good things to eat, clean clothes, and had the most fun 
with you.” 

Billy leaned against her and closed his eyes, and Elnora rocked 
hopefully. 

“If I was dead would you cry?” he was up again. 

“Yes, I would,” said Elnora, gripping him closer until Billy 
almost squealed with the embrace. 

“Do you love me tight as that?” he questioned blissfully. 

“Yes, bushels and bushels,” said Elnora. “Better than any 
little boy in the whole world.” 

Billy looked at Margaret. “She don’t!” he said. “She’d be 
glad if it would get me ‘softly,’ right now. She don’t want me 
here ’t all.” 

Elnora smothered his face against her breast and rocked. 

“You love me, don’t you?” 

“I will, if you will go to sleep.” 

“Every single day you will give me your dinner for the bologna, 
won’t you,” said Billy. 

“Yes, I will,” replied Elnora. “But you will have as good lunch 


102 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

as I do after this. You will have milk, eggs, chicken, all kinds of 
good things, little pies, and cakes, maybe.” 

Billy shook his head. “I am going back home soon as it is 
light,” he said, “she don’t want me. She thinks I’m a bad boy. 
She’s going to whip me — if he lets her. She said so. I heard her. 
Oh, I wish he hadn’t died ! I want to go home.” Billy shrieked 
again. 

Mrs. Comstock had started to walk slowly to meet Elnora. 
The girl had been so late that her mother reached the Sinton 
gate and followed the path until the picture inside became visible. 
Elnora had told her about Wesley taking Billy home. Mrs. Com- 
stock had some curiosity to see how Margaret bore the unexpected 
addition to her family. Billy’s voice, raised with excitement, was 
plainly audible. She could see Elnora holding him, and hear his 
excited wail. Wesley’s face was drawn and haggard, and Mar- 
garet’s set and defiant. A very imp of perversity entered the breast 
of Mrs. Comstock. 

“Hoity, toity!” she said as she suddenly appeared in the door. 
“Blest if I ever heard a man making sounds like that before!” 

Billy ceased suddenly. Mrs. Comstock was tall, angular, and her 
hair was prematurely white. She was only thirty-six, although 
she appeared fifty. But there was an expression on her usually 
cold face that was attractive just then, and Billy was in search 
of attractions. 

“Have I stayed too late, mother?” asked Elnora anxiously. 
“I truly intended to come straight back, but I thought I could 
rock Billy to sleep first. Everything is strange, and he’s so nervous.” 

“Is that your ma?” demanded Billy. 

“Yes.” 

“Does she love you?” 

“Of course!” 

“My mother didn’t love me,” said Billy. “She went away and 
left me, and never came back. She don’t care what happens to 
me. You wouldn’t go away and leave your little girl, would you?” 
questioned Billy. 

“No,” said Katherine Comstock, “and I wouldn’t leave a little 
boy, either.” 


MRS. COMSTOCK AND MARGARET IO3 

Billy began sliding from Elnora’s knees. 

“Do you like boys?” he questioned. 

‘ If there is anything I love it is a boy,” said Mrs. Comstock 
assuringly. Billy was on the floor. 

“Do you like dogs?” 

“Yes. Almost as well as boys. I am going to buy a dog as soon 
as I can find a good one.” 

Billy swept toward her with a whoop. 

“Do you want a boy?” he shouted. 

Katherine Comstock stretched out her arms, and gathered 
him in. 

“Of course, I want a boy!” she rejoiced. 

“Maybe you’d like to have me?” offered Billy. 

“Sure I would,” triumphed Mrs. Comstock. “Anyone would 
like to have you. You are just a real boy, Billy.” 

“Will you take Snap?” 

“I’d like to have Snap almost as well as you.” 

“Mother!” breathed Elnora imploringly. “Don’t! Oh, don’t! 
He thinks you mean it!” 

“And so I do mean it,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I’ll take him 
in a jiffy. I throw away enough to feed a little tyke like him every 
day. His chatter would be great company while you are gone. 
Blood soon can be purified with right food and baths, and as for 
Snap, I meant to buy a bulldog, but possibly Snap will serve just 
as well. All I ask of a dog is to bark at the right time. I’ll do the 
rest. Would you like to come and be my boy, Billy?” 

Billy leaned against Mrs. Comstock, reached his arms around 
her neck and gripped her with all his puny might. “You can whip 
me all you want to,” he said. “I won’t make a sound.” 

Mrs. Comstock held him closely and her hard face was soften- 
ing; of that there could be no doubt. 

“Now, why would anyone whip a nice little boy like you?” 
she asked wonderingly. 

“She” — Billy from his refuge waved toward Margaret — “she 
was going to whip me ’cause her cats fought, when I tied their 
tails together and hung them over the line to dry. How did I know 
her old cats would fight?” 


104 A GIRL of the limberlost 

Mrs. Comstock began to laugh suddenly, and try as she would 
she could not stop so soon as she desired. Billy studied her. 

“Have you got turkeys?” he demanded. 

“Yes, flocks of them,” said Mrs. Comstock, vainly struggling 
to suppress her mirth, and settle her face in its accustomed 
lines. 

“Are their tails fast?” demanded Billy. 

“Why, I think so,” marveled Mrs. Comstock. 

“Hers ain’t!” said Billy with the wave toward Margaret that 
was becoming familiar. “Her turkey pulled, and its tail corned 
right off. She’s going to whip me if he lets her. I didn’t know 
the turkey would pull. I didn’t know its tail would come off. I 
won’t ever touch one again, will I?” 

“Of course, you won’t,” said Mrs. Comstock. “And what’s 
more, I don’t care if you do ! I’d rather have a fine little man like 
you than all the turkeys in the country. Let them lose their old 
tails if they want to, and let the cats fight. Cats and turkeys 
don’t compare with boys, who are going to be fine big men some 
of these days.” 

Then Billy and Mrs. Comstock hugged each other rapturously, 
while their audience stared in silent amazement. 

“You like boys!” exulted Billy, and his head dropped against 
Mrs. Comstock in unspeakable content. 

“Yes, and if I don’t have to carry you the whole way home, 
we must start right now,” said Mrs. Comstock. “You are going 
to be asleep before you know it.” 

Billy opened his eyes and braced himself. “I can walk,” he said 
proudly. 

“All right, we must start. Come, Elnora! Good night, folks!” 
Mrs. Comstock set Billy on the floor, and arose gripping his hand. 
“You take the other side, Elnora, and we will help him as much 
as we can,” she said. 

Elnora stared piteously at Margaret, then at Wesley, and 
arose in white-faced bewilderment. 

“Billy, are you going to leave without even saying good-bye 
to me?” asked Wesley, with a gulp. 

Billy held tight to Mrs. Comstock and Elnora. 


MRS. COMSTOCK AND MARGARET IO5 

“Good-bye!” he said casually. “I’ll come and see you some 
time.” 

Wesley Sinton gave a smothered sob, and strode from the room. 

Mrs. Comstock started toward the door, dragging at Billy 
while Elnora pulled back, but Mrs. Sinton was before them, 
her eyes flashing. 

“Kate Comstock, you think you are mighty smart, don’t you?” 
she cried. 

“I ain’t in the lunatic asylum, where you belong, anyway,” 
said Mrs. Comstock. “I am smart enough to tell a dandy boy 
when I see him, and I’m good and glad to get him. I’ll love 
to have him!” 

“Well, you won’t have him!” exclaimed Margaret Sinton. 
“That boy is Wesley’s! He found him, and brought him here. 
You can’t come in and take him like that! Let go of him!” 

“Not much, I won’t!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “Leave the poor 
sick little soul here for you to beat, because he didn’t know just 
how to handle things! Of course, he’ll make mistakes. He must 
have a lot of teaching, but not the kind he’ll get from you! 
Clear out of my way!” 

“You let go of our boy,” ordered Margaret. 

“Why? Do you want to whip him, before he can go to sleep?” 
jeered Mrs. Comstock. 

“No, I don’t!” said Margaret. “He’s Wesley’s, and nobody 
shall touch him. Wesley!” 

Wesley Sinton appeared behind Margaret in the doorway, and 
she turned to him. “Make Kate Comstock let go of our boy!” 
she demanded. 

“Billy, she wants you now,” said Wesley Sinton. “She won’t 
whip you, and she won’t let anyone else. You can have stacks of 
good things to eat, ride in the carriage, and have a great time. 
Won’t you stay with us?” 

Billy drew away from Mrs. Comstock and Elnora. 

He faced Margaret, his eyes shrewd with unchildish wisdom. 
Necessity had taught him to strike the hot iron, to drive the hard 
bargain. 

“Can I have Snap to live here always?” he demanded. 


106 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

“Yes, you can have all the dogs you want,” said Margaret 
Sinton. 

“Can I sleep close enough so’s I can touch you?” 

“Yes, you can move your lounge up so that you can hold 
my hand,” said Margaret. 

“Do you love me now?” questioned Billy. 

“I’ll try to love you, if you are a good boy,” said Margaret. 

“Then I guess I’ll stay,” said Billy, walking over to her. 

Out in the night Elnora and her mother went down the road 
in the moonlight; every few rods Mrs. Comstock laughed aloud. 

“Mother, I don’t understand you,” sobbed Elnora. 

“Well, maybe when you have gone to high school longer you 
will,” said Mrs. Comstock. “Anyway, you saw me bring Mag 
Sinton to her senses, didn’t you?” 

“Yes, I did,” answered Elnora, “but I thought you were ill 
earnest. So did Billy, and Uncle Wesley, and Aunt Margaret.” 

“Well, wasn’t I?” inquired Mrs. Comstock. 

“But you just said you brought Aunt Margaret to !” 

“Well, didn’t I?” 

“I don’t understand you.” 

“That’s the reason I am recommending more schooling!” 

Elnora took her candle and went to bed. Mrs. Comstock was 
feeling too good to sleep. Twice of late she really had enjoyed 
herself for the first in sixteen years, and greediness for more of 
the same feeling crept into her blood like intoxication. As she 
sat brooding alone she knew the truth. She would have loved to 
have taken Billy. She would not have minded his mischief, his 
chatter, or his dog. He would have meant a distraction from her- 
self that she greatly needed ; she was even sincere about the dog. 
She had intended to tell Wesley to buy her one at the very first 
opportunity. Her last thought was of Billy. She chuckled softly, 
for she was not saintly, and now she knew how she could even a 
long score with Margaret and Wesley in a manner that would 
fill her soul with grim satisfaction. 


CHAPTER VIII 


Wherein the Limber lost Tempts Elnora, 
and Billy Buries His Father 


Immediately after dinner on Sunday Wesley Sinton stopped 
at the Comstock gate to ask if Elnora wanted to go to town 
with them. Billy sat beside him and he did not appear as if he 
were on his way to a funeral. Elnora said she had to study and 
could not go, but she suggested that her mother take her place. 
Mrs. Comstock put on her hat and went at once, which surprised 
Elnora. She did not know that her mother was anxious for an 
opportunity to speak with Sinton alone. Elnora knew why she 
was repeatedly cautioned not to leave their land, if she went 
specimen hunting. 

She studied two hours and was several lessons ahead of her 
classes. There was no use to go further. She would take a walk 
and see if she could gather any caterpillars or find any freshly 
spun cocoons. She searched the bushes and low trees behind the 
garden and all around the edge of the woods on their land, and 
having little success, at last came to the road. Almost the first 
thorn bush she examined yielded a Polyphemus cocoon. Elnora 
lifted her head with the instinct of a hunter on the chase, and 
began work. She reached the swamp before she knew it, carrying 
five fine cocoons of different species as her reward. She pushed 
back her hair and gazed around longingly. A few rods inside she 
thought she saw cocoons on a bush, to which she went, and found 
several. Sense of caution was rapidly vanishing; she was in a 
fair way to forget everything and plunge into the swamp when 


A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 


108 

she thought she heard footsteps coming down the trail. She 
went back, and came out almost facing Pete Corson. 

That ended her difficulty. She had known him since child- 
hood. When she sat on the front bench of the Brushwood school- 
house, Pete had been one of the big boys at the back of the 
room. He had been rough and wild, but she never had been afraid 
of him, and often he had given her pretty things from the 
swamp. 

“What luck!” she cried. “I promised mother I would not go 
inside the swamp alone, and will you look at the cocoons I’ve 
found ! There are more just screaming for me to come get them, 
because the leaves will fall with the first frost, and then the jays 
and crows will begin to tear them open. I haven’t much time, 
since I’m going to school. You will go with me, Pete! Please say 
yes! Just a little way!” 

“What are those things?” asked the man, his keen black eyes 
staring at her. 

“They are the cases these big caterpillars spin for winter, and 
in the spring they come out great night moths, and I can sell 
them. Oh, Pete, I can sell them for enough to take me through 
high school and dress me so like the others that I don’t look 
different, and if I have very good luck I can save some for college. 
Pete, please go with me?” 

“Why don’t you go like you always have?” 

“Well, the truth is, I had a little scare,” said Elnora. “I never 
did mean to go alone ; sometimes I sort of wandered inside farther 
than I intended, chasing things. You know Duncan gave me 
Freckles’s books, and I have been gathering moths like he did. 
Lately I found I could sell them. If I can make a complete col- 
lection, I can get three hundred dollars for it. Three such collec- 
tions would take me almost through college, and I’ve four 
years in the high school yet. That’s a long time. I might collect 
them.” 

“Can every kind there is be found here?” 

“No, not all of them, but when I get more than I need of one 
kind, I can trade them with collectors farther north and west, so 
I can complete sets. It’s the only way I see to earn the money. 


THE LIMBERLOST TEMPTS ELNORA 109 

Look what I have already. Big gray Cecropias come from this 
kind; brown Polyphemus from that, and green Lunas from 
these. You aren’t working on Sunday. Go with me only an hour, 
Pete!” 

The man looked at her narrowly. She was young, wholesome, 
and beautiful. She was innocent, intensely in earnest, and she 
needed the money, he knew that. 

“You didn’t tell me what scared you,” he said. 

“Oh, I thought I did! Why, you know, I had Freckles’s box 
packed full of moths and specimens, and one evening I sold 
some to the Bird Woman. Next morning I found a note telling me 
it wasn’t safe to go inside the swamp. That sort of scared me. 
I think I’ll go alone, rather than miss the chance, but I’d be so 
happy if you would take care of me. Then I could go anywhere 
I chose, because if I mired you could pull me out. You will take 
care of me, Pete?” 

“Yes, I’ll take care of you,” promised Pete Corson. 

“Goody!” said Elnora. “Let’s start quick! And Pete, you look 
at these closely, and when you are hunting or going along the 
road, if one dangles under your nose, you cut off the little twig 
and save it for me, will you?” 

“Yes, I’ll save you all I see,” promised Pete. He pushed back 
his hat and followed Elnora. She plunged fearlessly among bushes, 
over underbrush, and across dead logs. One minute she was cry- 
ing wildly, that here was a big one, the next she was reaching 
for a limb above her head or on her knees overturning dead 
leaves under a hickory or oak tree, or working aside black muck 
with her bare hands as she searched for buried pupae cases. 
For the first hour Pete bent back bushes and followed, carry- 
ing what Elnora discovered. Then he found one. 

“Is this the kind of thing you are looking for?” he asked 
bashfully, as he presented a wild cherry twig. 

“Oh Pete, that’s a Promethea! I didn’t even hope to find 
one.” 

“What’s the bird like?” asked Pete. 

“Almost black wings,” said Elnora, “with clay-colored edges, 
and the most wonderful wine-colored flush over the under side 


IIO A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

if it’s a male, and stronger wine above and below if it’s a female. 
Oh, aren’t I happy!” 

“How would it do to make what you have into a bunch that 
we could leave here, and come back for them?” 

“That would be all right.” 

Relieved of his load Pete began work. First, he narrowly 
examined the cocoons Elnora had found. He questioned her as 
to what other kinds would be like. He began to use the eyes of 
a trained woodman and hunter in her behalf. He saw several so 
easily, and moved through the forest so softly, that Elnora forgot 
the moths in watching him. Presently she was carrying the speci- 
mens, and he was making the trips of investigation to see which 
was a cocoon and which a curled leaf, or he was on his knees 
digging around stumps. As he worked he kept asking questions. 
What kind of logs were best to look beside, what trees were 
pupae cases most likely to be under; on what bushes did cater- 
pillars spin most frequently? Time passed, as it always does when 
one’s occupation is absorbing. 

When the Sintons took Mrs. Comstock home, they stopped 
to see Elnora. She was not there. Mrs. Comstock called at the 
edge of her woods and received no reply. Then Wesley turned 
and drove back to the Limberlost. He left Margaret and Mrs. 
Comstock holding the team and entertaining Billy, while he 
entered the swamp. 

Elnora and Pete had made a wide trail behind them. Before 
Sinton had thought of calling, he heard voices and approached 
with some caution. Soon he saw Elnora, her flushed face beaming 
as she bent with an armload of twigs and branches and talked 
to a kneeling man. 

“Now go cautiously!” she was saying. “I am just sure we 
will find an Imperialis here. It’s their very kind of a place. 
There! What did I tell you! Isn’t that splendid? Oh, I am so 
glad you came with me !” 

Wesley stood staring in speechless astonishment, for the man 
had arisen, brushed the dirt from his hands, and held out to 
Elnora a small shining dark pupa case. As his face came into 


THE LIMBERLOST TEMPTS ELNORA III 

view Sinton almost cried out, for he was the one man of all 
others Wesley knew with whom he most feared for Elnora’s 
safety. She had him on his knees digging pupae cases for her from 
the swamp. 

“Elnora!” called Sinton. “Elnora!” 

“Oh, Uncle Wesley!” cried the girl. “See what luck we’ve 
had ! I know we have a dozen and a half cocoons and we have 
three pupae cases. It’s much harder to get the cases because you 
have to dig for them, and you can’t see where to look. But Pete 
is fine at it! He’s found three, and he says he will keep watch 
beside the roads, and through the woods while he hunts. Isn’t 
that splendid of him? Uncle Wesley, there is a college over there 
on the western edge of the swamp. Look closely, and you can 
see the great dome up among the clouds.” 

“I should say you have had luck,” said Wesley, striving to make 
his voice natural. “But I thought you were not coming to the 
swamp?” 

“Well, I wasn’t,” said Elnora, “but I couldn’t find many any- 
where else, honest, I couldn’t, and just as soon as I came to the 
edge I began to see them here. I kept my promise. I didn’t come 
in alone. Pete came with me. He’s so strong, he isn’t afraid of 
anything, and he’s perfectly splendid to locate cocoons! He’s 
found half of these. Come on, Pete, it’s getting dark now, and 
we must go.” 

They started toward the trail, Pete carrying the cocoons. He 
left them at the case, while Elnora and Wesley went on to the 
carriage together. 

“Elnora Comstock, what does this mean?” demanded her 
mother. 

“It’s all right, one of the neighbors was with her, and she 
got several dollars’ worth of stuff,” interposed Wesley. 

“You oughter seen my pa,” shouted Billy. “He was ist all 
whited out, and he laid as still as anything. They put him away 
deep in the ground.” 

“Billy!” breathed Margaret in a prolonged groan. 

“Jimmy and Belle are going to be together in a nice place. 


1 12 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

They are coming to see me, and Snap is right down here by the 
wheel. Here, Snap! My, but he’ll be tickled to get something 
to eat! He’s ’most twisted as me. They get new clothes, and 
all they want to eat, too, but they’ll miss me. They couldn’t 
have got along without me. I took care of them. I had a lot of 
things give to me ’cause I was the littlest, and I always divided 
with them. But they won’t need me now.” 

When she left the carriage Mrs. Comstock gravely shook hands 
with Billy. “Remember,” she said to him, “I love boys, and I 
love dogs. Whenever you don’t have a good time up there, take 
your dog and come right down and be my little boy. We will just 
have loads of fun. You should hear the whistles I can make. If 
you aren’t treated right you come straight to me.” 

Billy wagged his head sagely. “You ist bet I will!” he said. 

“Mother, how could you?” asked Elnora as they walked up the 
path. 

“How could I, missy? You better ask how couldn’t I? I just 
couldn’t! Not for enough to pay my road tax! Not for enough to 
pay the road tax, and the dredge tax, too!” 

“Aunt Margaret always has been lovely to me, and I don’t 
think it’s fair to worry her.” 

“I choose to be lovely to Billy, and let her sweat out her own 
worries just as she has me, these sixteen years. There is nothing 
in all this world so good for people as taking a dose of their 
own medicine. The difference is that I am honest. I just say in 
plain English, ‘if they don’t treat you right, come to me.’ They 
have only said it in actions and inferences. I want to teach Mag 
Sinton how her own doses taste, but she begins to sputter before 
I fairly get the spoon to her lips. Just you wait!” 

“When I think what I owe her ” began Elnora. 

“Well, thank goodness, I don’t owe her anything, and so I’m 
perfectly free to do what I choose. Come on, and help me get 
supper. I’m hungry as Billy!” 

Margaret Sinton rocked slowly back and forth in her chair. 
On her breast lay Billy’s red head, one hand clutched her dress 


THE LIMBERLOST TEMPTS ELNORA 


113 

front with a spasmodic grip, even after he was unconscious. 

“You mustn’t begin that, Margaret,” said Sinton. “He’s too 
heavy. And it’s bad for him. He’s better off to lie down and go 
to sleep alone.” 

“He’s very light, Wesley. He jumps and quivers so. He has to 
be stronger than he is now, before he will sleep soundly.” 


CHAPTER IX 


W herein Elnora Discovers a Violin, 
and Billy Disciplines Margaret 


Elnora missed the little figure at the bridge the following morn- 
ing. She slowly walked up the street and turned in at the wide 
entrance to the school grounds. She scarcely could comprehend 
that only a week ago she had gone there friendless, alone, and 
so sick at heart that she was physically ill. Today she had 
decent clothing, books, friends, and her mind was at ease to work 
on her studies. 

As she approached home that night the girl paused in amaze- 
ment. Her mother had company, and she was laughing. Elnora 
entered the kitchen softly and peeped into the sitting-room. Mrs. 
Comstock sat in her chair holding a book and every few seconds 
a soft chuckle broke into a real laugh. Mark Twain was doing 
his work; while Mrs. Comstock was not lacking in a sense of 
humor. Elnora entered the room before her mother saw her. 
Mrs. Comstock looked up with flushed face. 

“Where did you get this?” she demanded. 

“I bought it,” said Elnora. 

“Bought it! With all the taxes due!” 

“I paid for it out of my Indian money, mother,” said Elnora. 
“I couldn’t bear to spend so much on myself and nothing at all 
on you. I was afraid to buy the dress I should have liked to, and 
I thought the book would be company, while I was gone. I haven’t 
read it, but I do hope it’s good.” 

“Good ! It’s the biggest piece of foolishness I have read in all 


ELNORA DISCOVERS A VIOLIN I.I5 

my life. I’ve laughed all day, ever since I found it. I had a 
notion to go out and read some of it to the cows and see if they 
wouldn’t laugh.” 

“If it made you laugh, it’s a wise book,” said Elnora. 

“Wise!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “You can stake your life it’s a 
wise book. It takes the smartest man there is to do this kind 
of fooling,” and she began laughing again. 

Elnora, highly satisfied with her purchase, went to her room 
and put on her working clothes. Thereafter she made a point 
of bringing a book that she thought would interest her mother, 
from the library every week, and leaving it on the sitting-room 
table. Each night she carried home at least two school books 
and studied until she had mastered the points of her lessons. 
She did her share of the work faithfully, and every available 
minute she was in the fields searching for cocoons, for the moths 
promised to become her largest source of income. 

She gathered baskets of nests, flowers, mosses, insects, and all 
sorts of natural history specimens and sold them to the grade 
teachers. At first she tried to tell these instructors what to teach 
their pupils about the specimens; but recognizing how much 
more she knew than they, one after another begged her to study 
at home, and use her spare hours in school to exhibit and explain 
nature subjects to their pupils. Elnora loved the work, and she 
needed the money, for every few days some matter of expense 
arose that she had not expected. 

From the first week she had been received and invited with 
the crowd of girls in her class, and it was their custom in passing 
through the business part of the city to stop at the confectioners’ 
and take turns in treating to expensive candies, ice cream sodas, 
hot chocolate, or whatever they fancied. When first Elnora was 
asked she accepted without understanding. The second time she 
went because she seldom had tasted these things, and they were 
so delicious she could not resist. After that she went because she 
knew all about it, and had decided to go. 

She had spent half an hour on the log beside the trail in deep 
thought and had arrived at her conclusions. She worked harder 
than usual for the next week, but she seemed to thrive on work. 


Jl6 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

It was October and the red leaves were falling when her first 
time came to treat. As the crowd flocked down the broad walk 
that night Elnora called, “Girls, it’s my treat tonight! Gome on!” 

She led the way through the city to the grocery they patronized 
when they had a small spread, and entering came out with a 
basket, which she carried to the bridge on her home road. There 
she arranged the girls in two rows on the cement abutments and 
opening her basket she gravely offered each girl an exquisite 
little basket of bark, lined with red leaves, in one end of which 
nestled a juicy big red apple and in the other a spicy doughnut 
not an hour from Margaret Sinton’s frying basket. 

Another time she offered big balls of popped com stuck 
together with maple sugar, and liberally sprinkled with beech- 
nut kernels. Again it was hickory nut kernels glazed with sugar, 
another time maple candy, and once a basket of warm pumpkin 
pies. She never made any apology, or offered any excuse. She 
simply gave what she could afford, and the change was as wel- 
come to those city girls, accustomed to sodas and French 
candy, as were these same things to Elnora surfeited on popcorn 
and pie. In her room was a little slip containing a record of the 
number of weeks in the school year, the times it would be her 
turn to treat and the dates on which such occasions would fall, 
with a number of suggestions beside each. Once the girls al- 
most fought over a basket lined with yellow leaves, and filled with 
fat, very ripe red haws. In late October there was a riot over one 
which was lined with red leaves and contained big fragrant 
pawpaws frost-bitten to a perfect degree. Then hazel nuts were 
ripe, and once they served. One day Elnora at her wits’ end, 
explained to her mother that the girls had given her things and 
she wanted to treat them. Mrs. Comstock, with characteristic 
stubbornness, had said she would leave a basket at the grocery 
for her, but firmly declined to say what would be in it. All day 
Elnora struggled to keep her mind on her books. For hours she 
wavered in tense uncertainty. What would her mother do? Should 
she take the girls to the confectioner’s that night or risk the basket? 
Mrs. Comstock could make delicious things to eat, but would 
she? 


ELNORA DISCOVERS A VIOLIN II7 

As they left the building Elnora made a final rapid mental 
calculation. She could not see her way clear to a decent treat for 
ten people for less than two dollars and if the basket proved to 
be nice, then the money would be wasted. She decided to risk 
it. As they went to the bridge the girls were betting on what 
the treat would be, and crowding near Elnora like spoiled small 
children. Elnora set down the basket. 

“Girls,” she said, “I don’t know what this is myself, so all of 
us are going to be surprised. Here goes !” 

She lifted the cover and perfumes from the land of spices rolled 
up. In one end of the basket lay ten enormous sugar cakes the 
tops of which had been liberally dotted with circles cut from 
stick candy. The candy had melted in baking and made small 
transparent wells of waxy sweetness and in the center of each 
cake was a fat turtle made from a raisin with cloves for head 
and feet. The remainder of the basket was filled with big spiced 
pears that could be held by their stems while they were eaten. 
The girls shrieked and attacked the cookies, and of all the treats 
Elnora offered perhaps none was quite so long remembered 
as that. 

When Elnora took her basket, placed her books in it, and 
started home, all the girls went with her as far as the fence where 
she crossed the field to the swamp. At parting they kissed her 
good-bye. Elnora was a happy girl as she hurried home to thank 
her mother. She was happy over her books that night, and happy 
all the way to school the following morning. 

When the music swelled from the orchestra her heart almost 
broke with throbbing joy. For music always had affected her 
strangely, and since she had been comfortable enough in her 
surroundings to notice things, she had listened to every note to 
find what it was that literally hurt her heart, and at last she 
knew. It was the talking of the violins. They were human voices, 
and they spoke a language Elnora understood. It seemed to her 
that she must climb up on the stage, take the instruments from 
the fingers of the players and make them speak what was in her 
heart. 

That night she said to her mother, “I am perfectly crazy 


Il8 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

for a violin. I am sure I could play one, sure as I live. Did any- 
one 55 Elnora never completed that sentence. 

“Hush!” thundered Mrs. Comstock. “Be quiet! Never mention 
those things before me again — never as long as you live ! I loathe 
them! They are a snare of the very devil himself! They were 
made to lure men and women from their homes and their honor. 
If ever I see you with one in your fingers I will smash it in pieces.” 

Naturally Elnora hushed, but she thought of nothing else after 
she had finished her lessons. At last there came a day when for 
some reason the leader of the orchestra left his violin on the 
grand piano. That morning Elnora made her first mistake in 
algebra. At noon, as soon as the building was empty, she slipped 
into the auditorium, found the side door which led to the stage, 
and going through the musicians’ entrance she took the violin. 
She carried it back into the little side room where the orchestra 
assembled, closed all the doors, opened the case and lifted out 
the instrument. 

She laid it on her breast, dropped her chin on it and drew 
the bow softly across the strings. One after another she tested 
the open notes. Gradually her stroke ceased to tremble and she 
drew the bow firmly. Then her fingers began to fall and softly, 
slowly she searched up and down those strings for sounds she 
knew. Standing in the middle of the floor, she tried over and over. 
It seemed scarcely a minute before the hall was filled with the 
sound of hurrying feet, and she was forced to put away the violin 
and go to her classes. The next day she prayed that the violin 
would be left again, but her petition was not answered. That 
night when she returned from the school she made an excuse to 
go down to see Billy. He was engaged in hulling walnuts by 
driving them through holes in a board. His hands were protected 
by a pair of Margaret’s old gloves, but he had speckled his face 
generously. He appeared well, and greeted Elnora hilariously. 

“Me an’ the squirrels are laying up our winter stores,” he 
shouted. “Cos the cold is coming, an’ the snow an’ if we have 
any nuts we have to fix ’em now. But I’m ahead, cos Uncle 
Wesley made me this board, and I can hull a big pile while the 
old squirrel does only ist one with his teeth.” 


ELNORA DISCOVERS A VIOLIN II9 

Elnora picked him up and kissed him. “Billy, are you happy?” 
she asked. 

“Yes, and so’s Snap,” answered Billy. “You ought to see him 
make the dirt fly when he gets after a chipmunk. I bet you he 
could dig up pa, if anybody wanted him to.” 

“Billy!” gasped Margaret as she came out to them. 

“Well, me and Snap don’t want him up, and I bet you Jimmy 
and Belle don’t, either. I ain’t been twisty inside once since I been 
here, and I don’t want to go away, and Snap don’t, either. He 
told me so.” 

“Billy ! That is not true. Dogs can’t talk,” cautioned Margaret. 

“Then what makes you open the door when he asks you to?” 
demanded Billy. 

“Scratching and whining isn’t talking.” 

“Anyway, it’s the best Snap can talk, and you get up and do 
things he wants done. Chipmunks can talk too. You ought to 
hear them damn things holler when Snap gets them!” 

“Billy! When you want a cooky for supper and I don’t give 
it to you it is because you said a wrong word.” 

“Well, for ” Billy clapped his hand over his mouth and 

stained his face in swipes. “Well, for — anything! Did I go an’ 
forget again! The cookies will get all hard, won’t they? I bet 
you ten dollars I don’t say that any more.” 

He espied Wesley and ran to show him a walnut too big to 
go through the holes, and Elnora and Margaret entered the 
house. 

They talked of many things for a time and then Elnora said 
suddenly: “Aunt Margaret, I like music.” 

“I’ve noticed that in you all your life,” answered Margaret. 

“If dogs can’t talk, I can make a violin talk,” announced 
Elnora, and then in amazement watched the face of Margaret 
Sinton grow pale. 

“A violin !” she wavered. “Where did you get a violin?” 

“They fairly seemed to speak to me in the orchestra. One day 
the conductor left his in the auditorium, and I took it, and Aunt 
Margaret, I can make it do the wind in the swamp, the birds, and 
the animals. I can make any sound I ever heard on it. If I had a 


120 


A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 


chance to practice a little, I could make it do the orchestra music, 
too. I don’t know how I know, but I do.” 

“Did — did you ever mention it to your mother?” faltered 
Margaret. 

“Yes, and she seems prejudiced against them. But oh, Aunt 
Margaret, I never felt so about anything, not even going to school. 
I just feel as if I’d die if I didn’t have one. I could keep it at 
school, and practice at noon a whole hour. Soon they’d ask me 
to play in the orchestra. I could keep it in the case and practice 
in the woods in summer. You’d let me play over here Sunday. 
Oh, Aunt Margaret, what does one cost? Would it be wicked 
for me to take some of my money and buy a very cheap one? I 
could play on the least expensive one made.” 

“Oh, no you couldn’t ! A cheap machine makes cheap music. 
You got to have a fine fiddle to make it sing. But there’s no sense 
in your buying one. There isn’t a decent reason on earth why you 
shouldn’t have your fa ” 

“My father’s!” cried Elnora. She caught Margaret Sinton 
by the arm. “My father had a violin ! He played it. That’s why I 
can! Where is it! Is it in our house? Is it in mother’s room?” 

“Elnora!” panted Margaret. “Your mother will kill me! She 
always hated it.” 

“Mother dearly loves music,” said Elnora. 

“Not when it took the man she loved away from her to 
make it!” 

“Where is my father’s violin?” 

“Elnora!” 

“I’ve never seen a picture of my father. I’ve never heard his 
name mentioned. I’ve never had a scrap that belonged to him. 
Was he my father, or am I a charity child like Billy, and so she 
hates me?” 

“She has good pictures of him. Seems she just can’t bear to hear 
him talked about. Of course he was your father. They lived 
right there when you were born. She doesn’t dislike you; she 
merely tries to make herself think she does. There’s no sense in 
the world in you not having his violin. I’ve a great notion ” 

“Has mother got it?” 


ELNORA DISCOVERS A VIOLIN 121 

“No. I’ve never heard her mention it. It was not at home when 
he — when he died.” 

“Do you know where it is?” 

“Yes. I’m the only person on earth who does, except the one 
who has it.” 

“Who is that?” 

“I can’t tell you, but I will see if they have it yet, and get it 
if I can. But if your mother finds it out she will never forgive 
me. 

“I can’t help it,” said Elnora. “I want that violin.” 

“I’ll go tomorrow, and see if it has been destroyed.” 

“Destroyed ! Oh, Aunt Margaret ! Would anyone dare?” 

“I hardly think so. It was a good instrument. He played it like 
a master.” 

“Tell me !” breathed Elnora. 

“His hair was red and curled more than yours, and his eyes 
were blue. He was tall, slim, and the very imp of mischief. He 
joked and teased all day until he picked up that violin. Then his 
head bent over it, and his eyes got big and earnest. He seemed 
to listen as if he first heard the notes, and then copied them. 
Sometimes he drew the bow trembly, like he wasn’t sure it was 
right, and he might have to try again. He could almost drive you 
crazy when he wanted to, and no man that ever lived could 
make you dance as he could. He made it all up as he went. 
He seemed to listen for his dancing music, too. It appeared to 
come to him; he’d begin to play and you had to keep time. You 
couldn’t be still; he loved to sweep a crowd around with that 
bow of his. I think it was the thing you call inspiration. I can 
see him now, his handsome head bent, his cheeks red, his eyes 
snapping, and that bow going across the strings, and driving us 
like sheep. He always kept his body swinging, and he loved to 
play. He often slighted his work shamefully, and sometimes her 
a little; that is why she hated it — Elnora, what are you making 
me do?” 

The tears were rolling down Elnora’s cheeks. “Oh, Aunt 
Margaret,” she sobbed. “Why haven’t you told me about him 
sooner? I feel as if you had given my father to me living, so that 


122 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

I could touch him. I can see him, too ! Why didn’t you ever tell 
me before? Go on! Go on!” 

“I can’t, Elnora! I’m scared silly. I never meant to say any- 
thing. If I hadn’t promised her not to talk of him to you she 
wouldn’t have let you come here. She made me swear it.” 

“But why? Why? Was he a shame? Was he disgraced?” 

“Maybe it was that unjust feeling that took possession of her 
when she couldn’t help him from the swamp. She had to blame 
someone, or go crazy, so she took it out on you. At times, those 
first ten years, if I had talked to you, and you had repeated 
anything to her, she might have struck you too hard. She was not 
master of herself. You must be patient with her, Elnora. God only 
knows what she has gone through, but I think she is a little better 
lately.” 

“So do I,” said Elnora. “She seems more interested in my 
clothes, and she fixes me such delicious lunches that the girls 
bring fine candies and cake and beg to trade. I gave half my 
lunch for a box of candy one day, brought it home to her, and 
told her. Since, she has wanted me to carry a market basket 
and treat the crowd every day, she was so pleased. Life has been 
too monotonous for her. I think she enjoys even the little change 
made by my going and coming. She sits up half the night to read 
the library books I bring, but she is so stubborn she won’t even 
admit that she touches them. Tell me more about my father.” 

“Wait until I see if I can find the violin.” 

So Elnora went home in suspense, and that night she added to 
her prayers: “Dear Lord, be merciful to my father, and oh, do 
help Aunt Margaret to get his violin.” 

Wesley and Billy came in to supper tired and hungry. Billy ate 
heartily, but his eyes often rested on a plate of tempting cookies, 
and when Wesley offered them to the boy he reached for one. 
Margaret was compelled to explain that cookies were forbidden 
that night. 

“What!” said Wesley. “Wrong words been coming again. Oh, 
Billy, I do wish you could remember! I can’t sit and eat cookies 
before a little boy who has none. I’ll have to put mine back, too.” 
Billy’s face twisted in despair. 


ELNORA DISCOVERS A VIOLIN 123 

“Aw, go on!” he said gruffly, but his chin was jumping, for 
Wesley was his idol. 

“Can’t do it,” said Wesley. “It would choke me.” 

Billy turned to Margaret. “You make him,” he appealed. 

“He can’t, Billy,” said Margaret. “I know how he feels. You 
see, I can’t myself.” 

Then Billy slid from his chair, ran to the couch, buried his 
face in the pillow and cried heartbrokenly. Wesley hurried to 
the bam, and Margaret to the kitchen. When the dishes were 
washed Billy slipped from the back door. 

Wesley piling hay into the mangers heard a sound behind him 
and inquired, “That you, Billy?” 

“Yes,” answered Billy, “and it’s all so dark you can’t see me 
now, isn’t it?” 

“Well, mighty near,” answered Wesley. 

“Then you stoop down and open your mouth.” 

Sinton had shared bites of apple and nuts for weeks, for Billy 
had not learned how to eat anything without dividing with 
Jimmy and Belle. Since he had been separated from them, he 
shared with Wesley and Margaret. So he bent over the boy 
and received an installment of cooky that almost choked him. 

“Now you can eat it!” shouted Billy in delight. “It’s all dark! 
I can’t see what you’re doing at all!” 

Wesley picked up the small figure and set the boy on the back 
of a horse to bring his face level so that they could talk as men. 
He never towered from his height above Billy, but always lifted 
the little soul when important matters were to be discussed. 

“Now what a dandy scheme,” he commented. “Did you and 
Aunt Margaret fix it up?” 

“No. She ain’t had hers yet. But I got one for her. 1st as soon 
as you eat yours, I am going to take hers, and feed her first time I 
find her in the dark.” 

“But Billy, where did you get the cookies? You know Aunt 
Margaret said you were not to have any.” 

“I ist took them,” said Billy, “I didn’t take them for me. I ist 
took them for you and her.” 

Wesley thought fast. In the warm darkness of the bam the 


124 A GIRL of the limberlost 

horses crunched their corn, a rat gnawed at a comer of the 
granary, and among the rafters the white pigeon cooed a soft 
sleepy note to his dusky mate. 

“Did — did — I steal?” wavered Billy. 

Wesley’s big hands closed until he almost hurt the boy. 

“No!” he said vehemently. “That is too big a word. You made 
a mistake. You were trying to be a fine little man, but you went 
at it the wrong way. You only made a mistake. All of us do 
that, Billy. The world grows that way. When we make mistakes 
we can see them ; that teaches us to be more careful the next time, 
and so we learn.” 

“How wouldn’t it be a mistake?” 

“If you had told Aunt Margaret what you wanted to do, and 
asked her for the cookies she would have given them to you.” 

“But I was ’fraid she wouldn’t, and you ist had to have it.” 

“Not if it was wrong for me to have it, Billy. I don’t want 
it that much.” 

“Must I take it back?” 

“You think hard, and decide yourself.” 

“Lift me down,” said Billy, after a silence. “I got to put this 
in the jar, and tell her.” 

Wesley set the boy on the floor, but as he did so he paused 
one second and strained him close to his breast. 

Margaret sat in her chair sewing; Billy slipped in and crept 
beside her. The little face was lined with tragedy. 

“Why Billy, whatever is the matter?” she cried as she dropped 
her sewing and held out her arms. Billy stood back. He gripped 
his little fists tight and squared his shoulders. “I got to be shut 
up in the closet,” he said. 

“Oh, Billy ! What an unlucky day ! What have you done now?” 

“I stold !” gulped Billy. “He said it was ist a mistake, but it was 
worser ’an that. I took something you told me I wasn’t to have.” 

“Stole!” Margaret was in despair. “What, Billy?” 

“Cookies!” answered Billy in equal trouble. 

“Billy!” wailed Margaret. “How could you?” 

“It was for him and you,” sobbed Billy. “He said he couldn’t 
eat it ’fore me, but out in the barn it’s all dark and I couldn’t see. 


ELNORA DISCOVERS A VIOLIN 125 

I thought maybe he could there. Then we might put out the light 
and you could have yours. He said I only made it worse, cos I 
mustn’t take things, so I got to go in the closet. Will you hold 
me tight a little bit first? He did.” 

Margaret opened her arms and Billy rushed in and clung to 
her a few seconds, with all the force of his being, then he slipped 
to the floor and marched to the closet. Margaret opened the door. 
Billy gave one glance at the light, clinched his fists and walking 
inside climbed on a box. Margaret closed the door. 

Then she sat and listened. Was the air pure enough? Possibly 
he might smother. She had read something once. Was it very 
dark? What if there should be a mouse in the closet and it should 
run across his foot and frighten him into spasms. Somewhere she 

had heard Margaret leaned forward with tense face and 

listened. Something dreadful might happen. She could bear it no 
longer. She arose hurriedly and opened the door. Billy was drawn 
up on the box in a little heap, and he lifted a disapproving face 
to her. 

“Shut that door!” he said. “I ain’t been in here near long 
enough yet!” 


CHAPTER X 


Wherein Elnora Has More Financial 
Troubles, and Mrs. Comstock Again 
Hears the Song of the Limberlost 


The following night Elnora hurried to Sintons’. She threw open 
the back door and with anxious eyes searched Margaret’s face. 

“You got it!” panted Elnora. “You got it! I can see by your 
face that you did. Oh, give it to me!” 

“Yes, I got it, honey, I got it all right, but don’t be so fast. 
It had been kept in such a damp place it needed glueing, it had 
to have strings, and a key was gone. I knew how much you wanted 
it, so I sent Wesley right to town with it. They said they could 
fix it good as new, but it should be varnished, and that it would 
take several days for the glue to set. You can have it Saturday.” 

“You found it where you thought it was? You know it’s 
his?” 

“Yes, it was just where I thought, and it’s the same violin I’ve 
seen him play hundreds of times. It’s all right, only laying so long 
it needs fixing.” 

“Oh, Aunt Margaret ! Can I ever wait?” 

“It does seem a long time, but how could I help it? You 
couldn’t do anything with it as it was. You see, it had been hid- 
den away in a garret, and it needed cleaning and drying to make 
it fit to play again. You can have it Saturday sure. But Elnora, 
you’ve got to promise me that you will leave it here, or in town, 
and not let your mother get a hint of it. I don’t know what she’d 
do.” 


HAS MORE FINANCIAL TROUBLES 127 

“Uncle Wesley can bring it here until Monday. Then I will 
take it to school so that I can practice at noon. Oh, I don’t know 
how to thank you. And there’s more than the violin for which to 
be thankful. You’ve given me my father. Last night I saw him 
plainly as life.” 

“Elnora, you were dreaming!” 

“I know I was dreaming, but I saw him. I saw him so closely 
that a tiny white scar at the corner of his eyebrow showed. I was 
just reaching out to touch him when he disappeared.” 

“Who told you there was a scar on his forehead?” 

“No one ever did in all my life. I saw it last night as he went 
down. And oh, Aunt Margaret ! I saw what she did, and I heard 
his cries ! No matter what she does, I don’t believe I ever can be 
angry with her again. Her heart is broken, and she can’t help it. 
Oh, it was terrible, but I am glad I saw it. Now, I will always un- 
derstand.” 

“I don’t know what to make of that,” said Margaret. “I don’t 
believe in such stuff at all, but you couldn’t make it up, for you 
didn’t know.” 

“I only know that I played the violin last night, as he played 
it, and while I played he came through the woods from the di- 
rection of Carneys’. It was summer and all the flowers were in 
bloom. He wore gray trousers and a blue shirt, his head was bare, 
and his face was beautiful. I could almost touch him when he 
sank.” 

Margaret stood perplexed. “I don’t know what to think of 
that!” she ejaculated. “I was next to the last person who saw 
him before he was drowned. It was late on a June afternoon, and 
he was dressed as you describe. He was bareheaded because he 
had found a quail’s nest before the bird began to brood, and he 
gathered the eggs in his hat and left it in a fence corner to get on 
his way home; they found it afterward.” 

“Was he coming from Carneys’?” 

“He was on that side of the quagmire. Why he ever skirted it 
so close as to get caught is a mystery you will have to dream out. 
I never could understand it.” 

“Was he doing something he didn’t want my mother to know?” 


128 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 


“Why?” 

“Because if he had been, he might have cut close the swamp 
so he couldn’t be seen from the garden. You know, the whole path 
straight to the pool where he sank can be seen from our back 
door. It’s firm on our side. The danger is on the north and east. If 
he didn’t want mother to know, he might have tried to pass on 
either of those sides and gone too close. Was he in a hurry?” 

“Yes, he was,” said Margaret. “He had been away longer than 
he expected, and he almost ran when he started home.” 

“And he’d left his violin somewhere that you knew, and you 
went and got it. I’ll wager he was going to play, and didn’t want 
mother to find it out!” 

“It wouldn’t make any difference to you if you knew every 
little thing, so quit thinking about it, and just be glad you are to 
have what he loved best of anything.” 

“That’s true. Now I must hurry home. I am dreadfully 
late.” 

Elnora sprang up and ran down the road, but when she ap- 
proached the cabin she climbed the fence, crossed the open woods 
pasture diagonally and entered at the back garden gate. As she 
often came that way when she had been looking for cocoons her 
mother asked no questions. 

Elnora lived by the minute until Saturday, when, contrary to 
his usual custom, Wesley went to town in the forenoon, taking 
her along to buy some groceries. Wesley drove straight to the 
music store, and asked for the violin he had left to be mended. 

In its new coat of varnish, with new keys and strings, it seemed 
much like any other violin to Sinton, but to Elnora it was the 
most beautiful instrument ever made, and a priceless treasure. 
She held it in her arms, touched the strings softly and then she 
drew the bow across them in whispering measure. She had no 
time to think what a remarkably good bow it was for sixteen 
years’ disuse. The tan leather case might have impressed her as 
being in fine condition also, had she been in a state to question 
anything. She did remember to ask for the bill and she was 
gravely presented with a slip calling for four strings, one key, and 
a coat of varnish, total, one dollar fifty. It seemed to Elnora she 


HAS MORE FINANCIAL TROUBLES 1 29 

never could put the precious instrument in the case and start 
home. Wesley left her in the music store where the proprietor 
showed her all he could about tuning, and gave her several be- 
ginners’ sheets of notes and scales. She carried the violin in her 
arms as far as the crossroads at the comer of their land, then re- 
luctantly put it under the carriage seat. 

As soon as her work was done she ran down to Sintons’ and 
began to play, and on Monday the violin went to school with 
her. She made arrangements with the superintendent to leave it 
in his office and scarcely took time for her food at noon, she was 
so eager to practice. Often one of the girls asked her to stay in 
town all night for some lecture or entertainment. She could take 
the violin with her, practice, and secure help. Her skill was so 
great that the leader of the orchestra offered to give her lessons if 
she would play to pay for them, so her progress was rapid in tech- 
nical work. But from the first day the instrument became hers, 
with perfect faith that she could play as her father did, she spent 
half her practice time in imitating the sounds of all outdoors and 
improvising the songs her happy heart sang in those days. 

So the first year went, and the second and third were a repeti- 
tion; but the fourth was different, for that was the close of the 
course, ending with graduation and all its attendant ceremonies 
and expenses. To Elnora these appeared mountain high. She had 
hoarded every cent, thinking twice before she parted with a 
penny, but teaching natural history in the grades had taken time 
from her studies in school which must be made up outside. She 
was a conscientious student, ranking first in most of her classes, 
and standing high in all branches. Her interest in her violin had 
grown with the years. She went to school early and practiced half 
an hour in the little room adjoining the stage, while the orches- 
tra gathered. She put in a full hour at noon, and remained an- 
other half hour at night. She carried the violin to Sintons’ on 
Saturday and practiced all the time she could there, while Mar- 
garet watched the road to see that Mrs. Comstock was not com- 
ing. She had become so skillful that it was a delight to hear her 
play music of any composer, but when she played her own, that 
was joy inexpressible, for then the wind blew, the water rippled, 


.130 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

the Limberlost sang her songs of sunshine, shadow, black storm, 
and white night. 

Since her dream Elnora had regarded her mother with pe- 
culiar tenderness. The girl realized, in a measure, what had hap- 
pened. She avoided anything that possibly could stir bitter memo- 
ries or draw deeper a line on the hard, white face. This cost many 
sacrifices, much work, and sometimes delayed progress, but the 
horror of that awful dream remained with Elnora. She worked 
her way cheerfully, doing all she could to interest her mother in 
things that happened in school, in the city, and by carrying books 
that were entertaining from the public library. 

Three years had changed Elnora from the girl of sixteen to 
the very verge of womanhood. She had grown tall, round, and 
her face had the loveliness of perfect complexion, beautiful eyes 
and hair and an added touch from within that might have been 
called comprehension. It was a compound of self-reliance, hard 
knocks, heart hunger, unceasing work, and generosity. There was 
no form of suffering with which the girl could not sympathize, 
no work she was afraid to attempt, no subject she had investi- 
gated she did not understand. These things combined to pro- 
duce a breadth and depth of character altogether unusual. She 
was so absorbed in her classes and her music that she had not 
been able to gather many specimens. When she realized this and 
hunted assiduously, she soon found that changing natural con- 
ditions had affected such work. Men all around were clearing 
available land. The trees fell wherever com would grow. The 
swamp was broken by several gravel roads, dotted in places 
around the edge with little frame houses, and the machinery of 
oil wells; one especially low place around the region of Freckles’s 
room was nearly all that remained of the original. Wherever the 
trees fell the moisture dried, the creeks ceased to flow, the river 
ran low, and at times the bed was dry. With unbroken sweep the 
winds of the west came, gathering force with every mile and 
howled and raved ; threatening to tear the shingles from the roof, 
blowing the surface from the soil in clouds of fine dust and rap- 
idly changing everything. From coming in with two or three 
dozen rare moths in a day, in three years’ time Elnora had 


HAS MORE FINANCIAL TROUBLES I3I 

grown to be delighted with finding two or three. Big pursy cater- 
pillars could not be picked from their favorite bushes, when there 
were no bushes. Dragonflies would not hover over dry places, and 
butterflies became scarce in proportion to the flowers, while no 
land yields over three crops of Indian relics. 

All the time the expense of books, clothing and incidentals 
had continued. Elnora added to her bank account whenever she 
could, and drew out when she was compelled, but she omitted 
the important feature of calling for a balance. So, one early spring 
morning in the last quarter of the fourth year, she almost fainted 
when she learned that her funds were gone. Commencement with 
its extra expense was coming, she had no money, and very few 
cocoons to open in June, which would be too late. She had one 
collection for the Bird Woman complete to a pair of Imperialis 
moths, and that was her only asset. On the day she added these 
big Yellow Emperors she had been promised a check for three 
hundred dollars, but she would not get it until these specimens 
were secured. She remembered that she never had found an 
Emperor before June. 

Moreover, that sum was for her first year in college. Then she 
would be of age, and she meant to sell enough of her share of 
her father’s land to finish. She knew her mother would oppose 
her bitterly in that, for Mrs. Comstock had clung to every acre 
and tree that belonged to her husband. Her land was almost com- 
plete forest where her neighbors owned cleared farms, dotted 
with wells that every hour sucked oil from beneath her holdings, 
but she was too absorbed in the grief she nursed to know or care. 
The Brushwood road and the redredging of the big Limberlost 
ditch had been more than she could pay from her income, and 
she had trembled before the wicket as she asked the banker if 
she had funds to pay it, and wondered why he laughed when he 
assured her she had. For Mrs. Comstock had spent no time on 
compounding interest, and never added the sums she had been 
depositing through nearly twenty years. Now she thought her 
funds were almost gone, and every day she worried over expenses. 
She could see no reason in going through the forms of gradua- 
tion when pupils had all in their heads that was required to 


132 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

graduate. Elnora knew she had to have her diploma in order to 
enter the college she wanted to attend, but she did not dare utter 
the word, until high school was finished, for, instead of softening 
as she hoped her mother had begun to do, she seemed to re- 
main very much the same. 

When the girl reached the swamp she sat on a log and thought 
over the expense she was compelled to meet. Every member of 
her particular set was having a large photograph taken to ex- 
change with the others. Elnora loved these girls and boys, and to 
say she could not have their pictures to keep was more than she 
could endure. Each one would give to all the others a handsome 
graduation present. She knew they would prepare gifts for her 
whether she could make a present in return or not. Then it was 
the custom for each graduating class to give a great entertain- 
ment and use the funds to present the school with a statue for 
the entrance hall. Elnora had been cast for and was practicing a 
part in that performance. She was expected to furnish her dress 
and personal necessities. She had been told that she must have a 
green gauze dress, and where was it to come from? 

Every girl of the class would have three beautiful new frocks 
for Commencement : one for the baccalaureate sermon, another, 
which could be plain, for graduation exercises, and a handsome 
one for the banquet and ball. Elnora faced the past three years 
and wondered how she could have spent so much money and not 
kept account of it. She did not realize where it had gone. She did 
not know what she could do now. She thought over the photo- 
graphs, and at last settled that question to her satisfaction. Sh? 
studied longer over the gifts, ten handsome ones there must be, 
and at last decided she could arrange for them. The green dress 
came first. The lights would be dim in the scene, and the setting 
deep woods. She could manage that. She simply could not have 
three dresses. She would have to get a very simple one for the 
sermon and do the best she could for graduation. Whatever she 
got for that must be made with a guimpe that could be taken 
out to make it a little more festive for the ball. But where could 
she get even two pretty dresses? 

The only hope she could see was to break into the collection of 


HAS MORE FINANCIAL TROUBLES 1 33 

the man from India, sell some moths, and try to replace them in 
June. But in her soul she knew that never would do. No June ever 
brought just the things she hoped it would. If she spent the col- 
lege money she knew she could not replace it. If she did not, the 
only way was to secure a room in the grades and teach a year. 
Her work there had been so appreciated that Elnora felt with the 
recommendation she knew she could get from the superintend- 
ent and teachers she could secure a position. She was sure she 
could pass the examinations easily. She had once gone on Satur- 
day, taken them and secured a license for a year before she left 
the Brushwood school. 

She wanted to start to college when the ether girls were going. 
If she could make the first year alone, she could manage the re- 
mainder. But make that first year herself, she must. Instead of 
selling any of her collection, she must hunt as she never before 
had hunted and find a Yellow Emperor. She had to have it, that 
was all. Also, she had to have those dresses. She thought of Wes- 
ley and dismissed it. She thought of the Bird Woman, and knew 
she could not tell her. She thought of every way in which she 
ever had hoped to earn money and realized that with the play, 
committee meetings, practicing, and final examinations she 
scarcely had time to live, much less to do more than the work re- 
quired for her pictures and gifts. Again Elnora was in trouble, 
and this time it seemed the worst of all. 

It was dark when she arose and went home. 

“Mother,” she said, “I have a piece of news that is decidedly 
not cheerful.” 

“Then keep it to yourself!” said Mrs. Comstock. “I think I 
have enough to bear without a great girl like you piling trouble 
on me.” 

“My money is all gone!” said Elnora. 

“Well, did you think it would last forever? It’s been a marvel 
to me that it’s held out as well as it has, the way you’ve dressed 
and gone.” 

“I don’t think I’ve spent any that I was not compelled to,” 
said Elnora. “I’ve dressed on just as little as I possibly could to 
keep going. I am heartsick. I thought I had over fifty dollars 


134 A girl of the limberlost 

to put me through Commencement, but they tell me it is all 
gone.” 

“Fifty dollars ! To put you through Commencement ! What on 
earth are you proposing to do?” 

“The same as the rest of them, in the very cheapest way possi- 
ble.” 

“And what might that be?” 

Elnora omitted the photographs, the gifts and the play. She 
told only of the sermon, graduation exercises, and the ball. 

“Well, I wouldn’t trouble myself over that,” sniffed Mrs. 
Comstock. “If you want to go to a sermon, put on the dress 
you always use for meeting. If you need white for the exercises 
wear the new dress you got last spring. As for the ball, the best 
thing for you to do is to stay a mile away from such folly. In my 
opinion you’d best bring home your books, and quit right now. 
You can’t be fixed like the rest of them, don’t be so foolish as to 
run into it. Just stay here and let these last few days go. You 
can’t learn enough more to be of any account.” 

“But, mother,” gasped Elnora. “You don’t understand!” 

“Oh, yes, I do !” said Mrs. Comstock. “I understand perfectly. 
So long as the money lasted, you held up your head, and went 
sailing without even explaining how you got it from the stuff you 
gathered. Goodness knows I couldn’t see. But now it’s gone, you 
come whining to me. What have I got? Have you forgot that the 
ditch and the road completely strapped me? I haven’t any 
money. There’s nothing for you to do but get out of it.” 

“I can’t!” said Elnora desperately. “I’ve gone on too long. It 
would make a break in everything. They wouldn’t let me have 
my diploma!” 

“What’s the difference? You’ve got the stuff in your head. I 
wouldn’t give a rap for a scrap of paper. That don’t mean any- 
thing!” 

“But I’ve worked four years for it, and I can’t enter — I ought 
to have it to help me get a school, when I want to teach. If I 
don’t have my grades to show, people will think I quit because 
I couldn’t pass my examinations. I must have my diploma!” 

“Then get it!” said Mrs. Comstock. 


HAS MORE FINANCIAL TROUBLES I35 

“The only way is to graduate with the others.” 

“Well, graduate if you are bound to!” 

“But I can’t, unless I have things enough like the class, that 
I don’t look as I did that first day.” 

“Well, please remember I didn’t get you into this, and I can’t 
get you out. You are set on having your own way. Go on, and 
have it, and see how you like it!” 

Elnora went upstairs and did not come down again that night, 
which her mother called pouting. 

“I’ve thought all night,” said the girl at breakfast, “and I can’t 
see any way but to borrow the money of Uncle Wesley and pay it 
back from some that the Bird Woman will owe me, when I get 
one more specimen. But that means that I can’t go to — that I will 
have to teach this winter, if I can get a city grade or a country 
school.” 

“Just you dare go dinging after Wesley Sinton for money,” 
cried Mrs. Comstock. “You won’t do any such a thing!” 

“I can’t see any other way. I’ve got to have the money!” 

“Quit, I tell you!” 

“I can’t quit! — I’ve gone too far!” 

“Well then, let me get your clothes, and you can pay me 
back.” 

“But you said you had no money!” 

“Maybe I can borrow some at the bank. Then you can return 
it when the Bird Woman pays you.” 

“All right,” said Elnora. “I don’t need expensive things. Just 
some kind of a pretty cheap white dress for the sermon, and a 
white one a little better than I had last summer, for Com- 
mencement and the ball. I can use the white gloves and shoes 
I got myself for last year, and you can get my dress made at the 
same place you did that one. They have my measurements, and 
do perfect work. Don’t get expensive things. It will be warm so 
I can go bareheaded.” 

Then she started to school, but was so tired and discouraged 
she scarcely could walk. Four years’ plans going in one day! 
For she felt that if she did not start to college that fall she never 
would. Instead of feeling relieved at her mother’s offer, she was 


136 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

almost too ill to go on. For the thousandth time she groaned: 
“Oh, why didn’t I keep account of my money?” 

After that the days passed so swiftly she scarcely had time ta 
think, but several trips her mother made to town, and the assur- 
ance that everything was all right, satisfied Elnora. She worked 
very hard to pass good final examinations and perfect herself for 
the play. For two days she had remained in town with the Bird 
Woman, in order to spend more time practicing and at her work. 

Often Margaret had asked about her dresses for graduation, 
and Elnora had replied that they were with a woman in the city 
who had made her a white dress for last year’s Commencement 
when she was a junior usher, and they would be all right. So 
Margaret, Wesley, and Billy concerned themselves over what 
they would give her for a present. Margaret suggested a beauti- 
ful dress. Wesley said that would look to everyone as if she 
needed dresses. The thing was to get a handsome gift like all the 
others would have. Billy wanted to present her a five-dollar gold 
piece to buy music for her violin. He was positive Elnora would 
like that best of anything. 

It was toward the close of the term when they drove to town 
one evening to try to settle this important question. They knew 
Mrs. Comstock had been alone several days, so they asked her 
to accompany them. She had been more lonely than she would 
admit, filled with unusual unrest besides, and so she was glad to 
go. But before they had driven a mile Billy had told that they 
were going to buy Elnora a graduation present, and Mrs. Com- 
stock devoutly wished that she had remained at home. She was 
prepared when Billy asked : “Aunt Kate, what are you going to 
give Elnora when she graduates?” 

“Plenty to eat, a good bed to sleep in, and do all the work while 
she trollops,” answered Mrs. Comstock dryly. 

Billy reflected. “I guess all of them have that,” he said. “I 
mean a present you buy at the store, like Christmas?” 

“It is only rich folks who buy presents at stores,” replied Mrs. 
Comstock. “I can’t afford it.” 

“Well, we ain’t rich,” he said, “but we are going to buy Elnora 


HAS MORE FINANCIAL TROUBLES 1 37 

something as fine as the rest of them have if we sell a corner of 
the farm. Uncle Wesley said so.” 

“A fool and his land are soon parted,” said Mrs. Comstock 
tersely. Wesley and Billy laughed, but Margaret did not enjoy 
the remark. 

While they were searching the stores for something on which 
all of them could decide, and Margaret was holding Billy to keep 
him from saying anything before Mrs. Comstock about the music 
on which he was determined, Mr. Brownlee met Wesley and 
stopped to shake hands. 

“I see your boy came out finely,” he said. 

“I don’t allow any boy anywhere to be finer than Billy,” said 
Wesley. 

“I guess you don’t allow any girl to surpass Elnora,” said Mr. 
Brownlee. “She comes home with Ellen often, and my wife and I 
love her. Ellen says she is great in her part tonight. Best thing in 
the whole play ! Of course, you are in to see it ! If you haven’t re- 
served seats, you’d better start pretty soon, for the high school 
auditorium only seats a thousand. It’s always jammed at these 
home-talent plays. All of us want to see how our children per- 
form.” 

“Why yes, of course,” said the bewildered Wesley. Then he 
hurried to Margaret. “Say,” he said, “there is going to be a play 
at the high school tonight; and Elnora is in it. Why hasn’t she 
told us?” 

“I don’t know,” said Margaret, “but I’m going.” 

“So am I,” said Billy. 

“Me too!” said Wesley, “unless you think for some reason she 
doesn’t want us. Looks like she would have told us if she had. I’m 
going to ask her mother.” 

“Yes, that’s what she’s been staying in town for,” said Mrs. 
Comstock. “It’s some sort of a swindle to raise money for her class 
to buy some silly thing to stick up in the schoolhouse hall to 
remember them by. I don’t know whether it’s now or next week, 
but there’s something of the kind to be done.” 

“Well, it’s tonight,” said Wesley, “and we are going. It’s my 


I38 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

treat, and we’ve got to hurry or we won’t get in. There are re- 
served seats, and we have none, so it’s the gallery for us, but I 
don’t care so I get to take one good peep at Elnora.” 

“S’pose she plays?” whispered Margaret in his ear. 

“Aw, tush! She couldn’t!” said Wesley. 

“Well, she’s been doing it three years in the orchestra, and 
working like a slave at it.” 

“Oh, well that’s different. She’s in the play tonight. Brownlee 
told me so. Come on, quick! We’ll drive and hitch closest place 
we can find to the building.” 

Margaret went in the excitement of the moment, but she was 
troubled. 

When they reached the building Wesley tied the team to a 
railing and Billy sprang out to help Margaret. Mrs. Comstock 
sat still. 

“Come on, Kate,” said Wesley, reaching his hand. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” said Mrs. Comstock, settling com- 
fortably back against the cushions. 

All of them begged and pleaded, but it was no use. Not an 
inch would Mrs. Comstock budge. The night was warm and 
the carriage comfortable, the horses were securely hitched. She 
did not care to see what idiotic thing a pack of school children 
were doing, she would wait until the Sintons returned. Wesley 
told her it might be two hours, and she said she did not care if 
it were four, so they left her. 

“Did you ever see such ?” 

“Cookies!” cried Billy. 

“Such blamed stubbornness in all your life?” demanded Wes- 
ley. “Won’t come to see as fine a girl as Elnora in a stage per- 
formance. Why, I wouldn’t miss it for fifty dollars!” 

“I think it’s a blessing she didn’t,” said Margaret placidly. “I 
begged unusually hard so she wouldn’t. I’m scared of my life for 
fear Elnora will play.” 

They found seats near the door where they could see fairly 
well. Billy stood at the back of the hall and had a good view. By 
and by, a great volume of sound welled from the orchestra, but 
Elnora was not playing. 


HAS MORE FINANCIAL TROUBLES I39 

“Told you so!” said Sinton. “Got a notion to go out and see 
if Kate won’t come now. She can take my seat, and I’ll stand 
with Billy.” 

“You sit still!” said Margaret emphatically. “This is not over 
yet.” 

So Wesley remained in his seat. The play opened and pro- 
gressed very much as all high school plays have gone for the past 
fifty years. But Elnora did not appear in any of the scenes. 

Out in the warm summer night a sour, grim woman nursed an 
aching heart and tried to justify herself. The effort irritated her 
intensely. She felt that she could not afford the things that were 
being done. The old fear of losing the land that she and Robert 
Comstock had purchased and started clearing was strong upon 
her. She was thinking of him, how she needed him, when the 
orchestra music poured from the open windows near her. Mrs. 
Comstock endured it as long as she could, and then slipped from 
the carriage and fled down the street. 

She did not know how far she went or how long she stayed, 
but everything was still, save an occasional raised voice when 
she wandered back. She stood looking at the building. Slowly she 
entered the wide gates and followed up the walk. Elnora had 
been coming here for almost four years. When Mrs. Comstock 
reached the door she looked inside. The wide hall was lighted 
with electricity, and the statuary and the decorations of the walls 
did not seem like pieces of foolishness. The marble appeared pure, 
white, and the big pictures most interesting. She walked the 
length of the hall and slowly read the titles of the statues and the 
names of the pupils who had donated them. She speculated on 
where the piece Elnora’s class would buy could L ? placed to ad- 
vantage. 

Then she wondered if they were having a large enough audi- 
ence to buy marble. She liked it better than the bronze, but it 
looked as if it cost more. How white the broad stairway was! 
Elnora had been climbing those stairs for years and never told her 
they were marble. Of course, she thought they were wood. Proba- 
bly the upper hall was even grander than this. She went over to 
the fountain, took a drink, climbed to the first landing and 


I40 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

looked around her, and then without thought to the second. 
There she came opposite the wide-open doors and the entrance 
to the auditorium packed with people and a crowd standing out- 
side. When they noticed a tall woman with white face and hair 
and black dress, one by one they stepped a little aside, so that 
Mrs. Comstock could see the stage. It was covered with curtains, 
and no one was doing anything. Just as she turned to go a sound 
so faint that everyone leaned forward and listened, drifted down 
the auditorium. It was difficult to tell just what it was; after one 
instant half the audience looked toward the windows, for it 
seemed only a breath of wind rustling freshly opened leaves; 
merely a hint of stirring air. 

Then the curtains were swept aside swiftly. The stage had 
been transformed into a lovely little comer of creation, where 
trees and flowers grew and moss carpeted the earth. A soft wind 
blew and it was the gray of dawn. Suddenly a robin began to 
sing, then a song sparrow joined him, and then several orioles 
began talking at once. The light grew stronger, the dew drops 
trembled, flower perfume began to creep out to the audience; 
the air moved the branches gently and a rooster crowed. Then 
all the scene was shaken with a babel of bird notes in which you 
could hear a cardinal whistling, and a blue finch piping. Back 
somewhere among the high branches a dove cooed and then a 
horse neighed shrilly. That set a blackbird crying, “T’check,” 
and a whole flock answered it. The crows began to caw and a 
lamb bleated. Then the grosbeaks, chats, and vireos had some- 
thing to say, and the sun rose higher, the light grew stronger and 
the breeze rustled the treetops loudly; a cow bawled and the 
whole barnyard answered. The guineas were clucking, the tur- 
key gobbler strutting, the hens calling, the chickens cheeping, the 
light streamed down straight overhead and the bees began to 
hum. The air stirred strongly, and away in an unseen field a 
reaper clacked and rattled through ripening wheat while the 
driver whistled. An uneasy mare whickered to her colt, the colt 
answered, and the light began to decline. Miles away a rooster 
crowed for twilight, and dusk was coming down. Then a cat- 


HAS MORE FINANCIAL TROUBLES I4I 

bird and a brown thrush sang against a grosbeak and a hermit 
thrush. The air was tremulous with heavenly notes, the lights 
went out in the hall, dusk swept across the stage, a cricket sang 
and a katydid answered, and a wood pewee wrung the heart 
with its lonesome cry. Then a night hawk screamed, a whip-poor- 
will complained, a belated killdeer swept the sky, and the night 
wind sang a louder song. A little screech owl tuned up in the 
distance, a bam owl replied, and a great homed owl drowned 
both their voices. The moon shone and the scene was warm with 
mellow light. The bird voices died and soft exquisite melody be- 
gan to swell and roll. In the center of the stage, piece by piece the 
grasses, mosses and leaves dropped from an embankment, the 
foliage softly blew away, while plainer and plainer came the out- 
lines of a lovely girl figure draped in soft clinging green. In her 
shower of bright hair a few green leaves and white blossoms 
clung, and they fell over her robe down to her feet. Her white 
throat and arms were bare, she leaned forward a little and swayed 
with the melody, her eyes fast on the clouds above her, her lips 
parted, a pink tinge of exercise in her cheeks as she drew her 
bow. She played as only a peculiar chain of circumstances puts 
it in the power of a very few to play. All nature had grown still, 
the violin sobbed, sang, danced and quavered on alone, no voice 
in particular; the soul of the melody of all nature combined in 
one great outpouring. 

At the doorway, a white-faced woman endured it as long as 
she could and then fell senseless. The men nearest carried her 
down the hall to the fountain, revived her, and then placed her 
in the carriage to which she directed them. The girl played on 
and never knew. When she finished, the uproar of applause 
sounded a block down the street, but the half-senseless woman 
scarcely realized what it meant. Then the girl came to the front 
of the stage, bowed, and lifting the violin she played her concep- 
tion of an invitation to dance. Every living soul within sound of 
her notes strained their nerves to sit still and let only their hearts 
dance with her. When that began the woman ran toward the 
country. She never stopped until the carriage overtook her half- 


142 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

way to her cabin. She said she had grown tired of sitting, and 
walked on ahead. That night she asked Billy to remain with her 
and sleep on Elnora’s bed. Then she pitched headlong upon her 
own, and suffered agony of soul such as she never before had 
known. The swamp had sent back the soul of her loved dead 
and put it into the body of the daughter she resented, and it 
was almost more than she could endure and live. 


CHAPTER XI 


Wherein Elnora Graduates, and Freckles 
and the Angel Send Gifts 


That was Friday night. Elnora came home Saturday morn- 
ing and began work. Mrs. Comstock asked no questions, and the 
girl only told her that the audience had been large enough to 
more than pay for the piece of statuary the class had selected for 
the hall. Then she inquired about her dresses and was told they 
would be ready for her. She had been invited to go to the Bird 
Woman’s to prepare for both the sermon and Commencement 
exercises. Since there was so much practicing to do, it had been 
arranged that she should remain there from the night of the ser- 
mon until after she was graduated. If Mrs. Comstock decided to 
attend she was to drive in with the Sintons. When Elnora begged 
her to come she said she cared nothing about such silliness. 

It was almost time for Wesley to come to take Elnora to the 
city, when fresh from her bath, and dressed to her outer gar- 
ment, she stood with expectant face before her mother and cried : 
“Now my dress, mother!” 

Mrs. Comstock was pale as she replied : “It’s on my bed. Help 
yourself.” 

Elnora opened the door and stepped into her mother’s room 
with never a misgiving. Since the night Margaret and Wesley 
had brought her clothing, when she first started to school, her 
mother had selected all of her dresses, with Mrs. Sinton’s help 
made most of them, and Elnora had paid the bills. The white 
dress of the previous spring was the first made at a dressmaker’s. 


144 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

She had worn that as junior usher at Commencement; but her 
mother had selected the material, had it made, and it had fitted 
perfectly and had been suitable in every way. So with her heart 
at rest on that point, Elnora hurried to the bed to find only her 
last summer’s white dress, freshly washed and ironed. For an 
instant she stared at it, then she picked up the garment, looked at 
the bed beneath it, and her gaze slowly swept the room. 

It was unfamiliar. Perhaps this was the third time she had 
been in it since she was a very small child. Her eyes ranged over 
the beautiful walnut dresser, the tall bureau, the big chest, inside 
which she never had seen, and the row of masculine attire hang- 
ing above it. Somewhere a dainty lawn or mull dress simply must 
be hanging; but it was not. Elnora dropped on the chest because 
she felt too weak to stand. In less than two hours she must be in 
the church, at Onabasha. She could not wear a last year’s washed 
dress. She had nothing else. She leaned against the wall and her 
father’s overcoat brushed her face. She caught the folds and 
clung to it with all her might. 

“Oh, father! Father!” she moaned. “I need you! I don’t be- 
lieve you would have done this!” At last she opened the door. 

“I can’t find my dress,” she said. 

“Well, as it’s the only one there I shouldn’t think it would be 
much trouble.” 

“You mean for me to wear an old washed dress tonight?” 

“It’s a good dress. There isn’t a hole in it! There’s no reason 
on earth why you shouldn’t wear it.” 

“Except that I will not,” said Elnora. “Didn’t you provide any 
dress for Commencement, either?” 

“If you soil that tonight, I’ve plenty of time to wash it again.” 

Wesley’s voice called from the gate. 

“In a minute,” answered Elnora. 

She ran upstairs and in an incredibly short time came down 
wearing one of her gingham school dresses. Her face cold and 
hard, she passed her mother and went into the night. Half an 
hour later Margaret and Billy stopped for Mrs. Comstock with 
the carriage. She had determined fully that she would not go be- 
fore they called. With the sound of their voices a sort of horror of 


ELNORA GRADUATES 


145 

being left seized her, so she put on her hat, locked the door and 
went out to them. 

“How did Elnora look?” inquired Margaret anxiously. 

“Like she always does,” answered Mrs. Comstock curtly. 

“I do hope her dresses are as pretty as the others,” said Mar- 
garet. “None of them will have prettier faces or nicer ways.” 

Wesley was waiting before the big church to take care of the 
team. As they stood watching the people enter the building, Mrs. 
Comstock felt herself growing ill. When they went inside among 
the lights, saw the flower-decked stage, and the masses of finely 
dressed people, she grew no better. She could hear Margaret and 
Billy softly commenting on what was being done. 

“That first chair in the very front row is Elnora’s,” exulted 
Billy, “cos she’s got the highest grades, and so she gets to lead 
the procession to the platform.” 

“The first chair!” “Lead the procession!” Mrs. Comstock was 
dumbfounded. The notes of the pipe organ began to fill the 
building in a slow rolling march. Would Elnora lead the pro- 
cession in a gingham dress? Or would she be absent and her 
chair vacant on this great occasion? For now, Mrs. Comstock 
could see that it was a great occasion. Everyone would remem- 
ber how Elnora had played a few nights before, and they would 
miss her and pity her. Pity? Because she had no one to care for 
her. Because she was worse off than if she had no mother. For the 
first time in her life, Mrs. Comstock began to study herself as she 
would appear to others. Every time a junior girl came fluttering 
down the aisle, leading someone to a seat, and Mrs. Comstock 
saw a beautiful white dress pass, a wave of positive illness swept 
over her. What had she done? What would become of Elnora? 

As Elnora rode to the city, she answered Wesley’s questions in 
monosyllables so that he thought she was nervous or rehearsing 
her speech and did not care to talk. Several times the girl tried to 
tell him and realized that if she said the first word it would bring 
uncontrollable tears. The Bird Woman opened the screen and 
stared unbelievingly. 

“Why, I thought you would be ready; you are so late!” she 
said. “If you have waited to dress here, we must hurry.” 


.146 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

“I have nothing to put on,” said Elnora. 

In bewilderment the Bird Woman drew her inside. 

“Did — did ” she faltered. “Did you think you would wear 

that?” 

“No. I thought I would telephone Ellen that there had been 
an accident and I could not come. I don’t know yet how to ex- 
plain. I’m too sick to think. Oh, do you suppose I can get some- 
thing made by Tuesday, so that I can graduate?” 

“Yes; and you’ll get something on you tonight, so that you 
can lead your class, as you have done for four years. Go to my 
room and take off that gingham, quickly. Anna, drop everything, 
and come help me.” 

The Bird Woman ran to the telephone and called Ellen Brown- 
lee. 

“Elnora has had an accident. She will be a little late,” she 
said. “You have got to make them wait. Have them play extra 
music before the march.” 

Then she turned to the maid. “Tell Benson to have the car- 
riage at the gate, just as soon as he can get it there. Then come to 
my room. Bring the thread box from the sewing-room, that roll of 
wide white ribbon on the cutting table, and gather all the white 
pins from every dresser in the house. But first come with me a 
minute. 

“I want that trunk with the Swamp Angel’s stuff in it, from 
the cedar closet,” she panted as they reached the top of the stairs. 

They hurried down the hall together and dragged the big 
trunk to the Bird Woman’s room. She opened it and began toss- 
ing out white stuff. 

“How lucky that she left these things!” she cried. “Here are 
white shoes, gloves, stockings, fans, everything!” 

“I am all ready but a dress,” said Elnora. 

The Bird Woman began opening closets and pulling out draw- 
ers and boxes. 

“I think I can make it this way,” she said. 

She snatched up a creamy lace yoke with long sleeves that re- 
cently had been made for her and held it out. Elnora slipped 
into it, and the Bird Woman began smoothing out wrinkles and 


ELNORA GRADUATES 


H7 

sewing in pins. It fitted very well with a little lapping in 
the back. Next, from among the Angel’s clothing she caught 
up a white silk waist with low neck and elbow sleeves, 
and Elnora put it on. It was large enough, but distressingly short 
in the waist, for the Angel had worn it at a party when she was 
sixteen. The Bird Woman loosened the sleeves and pushed them 
to a puff on the shoulders, catching them in places with pins. 
She began on the wide draping of the yoke, fastening it front, 
back and at each shoulder. She pulled down the waist and 
pinned it. Next came a soft white dress skirt of her own. By pin- 
ning her waist band quite four inches above Elnora’s, the Bird 
Woman could secure a perfect Empire sweep, with the clinging 
silk. Then she began with the wide white ribbon that was to trim 
a new frock for herself, bound it three times around the high 
waist effect she had managed, tied the ends in a knot and let them 
fall to the floor in a beautiful sash. 

“I want four white roses, each with two or three leaves,” she 
cried. 

Anna ran to bring them, while the Bird Woman added pins. 

“Elnora,” she said, “forgive me, but tell me truly. Is your 
mother so poor as to make this necessary?” 

“No,” answered Elnora. “Next year I am heir to my share of 
over three hundred acres of land covered with almost as valua- 
ble timber as was in the Limberlost. We adjoin it. There could be 
thirty oil wells drilled that would yield to us the thousands our 
neighbors are draining from under us, and the bare land is 
worth over one hundred dollars an acre for farming. She is not 
poor, she is — I don’t know what she is. A great trouble soured 
and warped her. It made her peculiar. She does not in the 
least understand, but it is because she doesn’t care to, instead of 
ignorance. She does not ” 

Elnora stopped. 

“She is — is different,” finished the girl. 

Anna came with the roses. The Bird Woman set one on the 
front of the draped yoke, one on each shoulder and the last 
among the bright masses of brown hair. Then she turned the 
girl facing the tall mirror. 


I48 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

“Oh!” panted Elnora. “You are a genius! Why, I will look 
as well as any of them.” 

“Thank goodness for that!” cried the Bird Woman. “If it 
wouldn’t do, I should have been ill. You are lovely; altogether 
lovely ! Ordinarily I shouldn’t say that ; but when I think of how 
you are carpentered, f’m admiring the result.” 

The organ began rolling out the march as they came in sight. 
Elnora took her place at the head of the procession, while every- 
one wondered. Secretly they had hoped that she would be 
dressed well enough, that she would not appear poor and neg- 
lected. What this radiant young creature, gowned in the most 
recent style, her smooth skin flushed with excitement, and a rose- 
set coronet of red gold on her head, had to do with the girl they 
knew was difficult to decide. The signal was given and Elnora 
began the slow march across the vestry and down the aisle. The 
music welled softly, and Margaret began to sob without knowing 
why. 

Mrs. Comstock gripped her hands together and shut her eyes. 
It seemed an eternity to the suffering woman before Margaret 
caught her arm and whispered, “Oh, Kate! For any sake look at 
her! Here! The aisle across!” 

Mrs. Comstock opened her eyes and directing them where she 
was told, gazed intently, and slid down in her seat close to col- 
lapse. She was saved by Margaret’s tense clasp and her com- 
mand : “Here ! Idiot ! Stop that !” 

In the blaze of light Elnora climbed the steps to the palm- 
embowered platform, crossed it and took her place. Sixty young 
men and women, each of them dressed the best possible, followed 
her. There were manly, fine-looking men in that class which 
Elnora led. There were girls of beauty and grace, but not one 
of them was handsomer or clothed in better taste than she. 

Billy thought the time never would come when Elnora would 
see him, but at last she met his eye, then Margaret and Wesley 
had faint signs of recognition in turn, but there was no soften- 
ing of the girl’s face and no hint of a smile when she saw her 
mother. 

Heartsick, Katharine Comstock tried to prove to herself that 


ELNORA GRADUATES 


149 

she was justified in what she had done, but she could not. She 
tried to blame Elnora for not saying that she was to lead a pro- 
cession and sit on a platform in the sight of hundreds of people; 
but that was impossible, for she realized that she would have 
scoffed and not understood if she had been told. Her heart pained 
until she suffered with every breath. 

When at last the exercises were over she climbed into the car- 
riage and rode home without a word. She did not hear what 
Margaret and Billy were saying. She scarcely heard Wesley, who 
drove behind, when he told her that Elnora would not be home 
until Wednesday. Early the next morning Mrs. Comstock was on 
her way to Onabasha. She was waiting when the Brownlee store 
opened. She examined readymade white dresses, but they had 
only one of the right size, and it was marked forty dollars. 
Mrs. Comstock did not hesitate over the price, but whether the 
dress would be suitable. She would have to ask Elnora. She in- 
quired her way to the home of the Bird Woman and knocked. 

“Is Elnora Comstock here?” she asked the maid. 

“Yes, but she is still in bed. I was told to let her sleep as long as 
she would.” 

“Maybe I could sit here and wait,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I 
want to see about getting her a dress for tomorrow. I am her 
mother.” 

“Then you don’t need wait or worry,” said the girl cheerfully. 
“There are two women up in the sewing-room at work on a 
dress for her right now. It will be done in time, and it will be a 
beauty.” 

Mrs. Comstock turned and trudged back to the Limberlost. 
The bitterness in her soul became a physical actuality, which 
water would not wash from her lips. She was too late ! She was 
not needed. Another woman was mothering her girl. Another 
woman would prepare a beautiful dress such as Elnora had worn 
the previous night. The girl’s love and gratitude would go to her. 
Mrs. Comstock tried the old process of blaming someone else, 
but she felt no better. She nursed her grief as closely as ever in the 
long days of the girl’s absence. She brooded over Elnora’s pos- 
session of the forbidden violin and her ability to play it until the 


150 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

performance could not have been told from her father’s. She tried 
every refuge her mind could conjure, to quiet her heart and re- 
move the fear that the girl never would come home again, but 
it persisted. Mrs. Comstock could neither eat nor sleep. She wan- 
dered around the cabin and garden. She kept far from the pool 
where Robert Comstock had sunk from sight for she felt that 
it would entomb her also if Elnora did not come home Wednes- 
day morning. The mother told herself that she would wait, 
but the waiting was as bitter as anything she ever had known. 

When Elnora awoke Monday another dress was in the hands of 
a seamstress and was soon fitted. It had belonged to the Angel, 
and was a soft white thing that with a little alteration would serve 
admirably for Commencement and the ball. All that day Elnora 
worked, helping prepare the auditorium for the exercises, rehears- 
ing the march and the speech she was to make in behalf of the 
class. The following day was even busier. But her mind was at 
rest, for the dress was a soft delicate lace easy to change, and 
the marks of alteration impossible to detect. 

The Bird Woman had telephoned to Grand Rapids, explained 
the situation and asked the Angel if she might use it. The reply 
had been to give the girl the contents of the chest. When the Bird 
Woman told Elnora, tears filled her eyes. 

“I will write at once and thank her,” she said. “With all her 
beautiful gowns she does not need them, and I do. They will 
serve for me often, and be much finer than anything I could 
afford. It is lovely of her to give me the dress and of you to have 
it altered for me, as I never could.” 

The Bird Woman laughed. “I feel religious today,” she said. 
“You know the first and greatest rock of my salvation is ‘Do 
unto others.’ I’m only doing to you what there was no one to do 
for me when I was a girl very like you. Anna tells me your mother 
was here early this morning and that she came to see about getting 
you a dress.” 

“She is too late!” said Elnora coldly. “She had over a month 
to prepare my dresses, and I was to pay for them, so there is no 
excuse.” 


ELNORA GRADUATES 


151 

“Nevertheless, she is your mother,” said the Bird Woman 
softly. “I think almost any kind of a mother must be better than 
none at all, and you say she has had great trouble.” 

“She loved my father and he died,” said Elnora. “The same 
thing, in quite as tragic a manner, has happened to thousands of 
other women, and they have gone on with calm faces and found 
happiness in life by loving others. There was something else I 
am afraid I never shall forget; this I know I shall not, but 
talking does not help. I must deliver my presents and photographs 
to the crowd. I have a picture and I made a present for you, too, 
if you would care for them.” 

“I shall love anything you give me,” said the Bird Woman. “I 
know you well enough to know that whatever you do will be 
beautiful.” 

Elnora was pleased over that, and as she tried on her dress for 
the last fitting she was really happy. She was lovely in the dainty 
gown : it would serve finely for the ball and many other like oc- 
casions, and it was her very own. 

The Bird Woman’s driver took Elnora in the carriage and she 
called on all the girls with whom she was especially intimate, and 
left her picture and the package containing her gift to them. By 
the time she returned parcels for her were arriving. Friends 
seemed to spring from everywhere. Almost everyone she knew 
had some gift for her, while because they so loved her the mem- 
bers of her crowd had made her beautiful presents. There were 
books, vases, silver pieces, handkerchiefs, fans, boxes of flowers 
and candy. One big package settled the trouble at Sintons’, for it 
contained a dainty dress from Margaret, a five-dollar gold piece, 
conspicuously labeled, “I earned this myself,” from Billy, with 
which to buy music; and a gorgeous cut-glass perfume bottle 
it would have cost five dollars to fill with even a moderate-priced 
scent, from Wesley. 

In an expressed crate was a fine curly-maple dressing table, sent 
by Freckles. The drawers were filled with wonderful toilet articles 
from the Angel. The Bird Woman added an embroidered linen 
cover and a small silver vase for a few flowers, so no girl of the 


152 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

class had finer gifts. Elnora laid her head on the table sobbing 
happily, and the Bird Woman was almost crying herself. Professor 
Henley sent a butterfly book, the grade rooms in which Elnora 
had taught gave her a set of volumes covering every phase of 
life afield, in the woods, and water. Elnora had no time to read 
so she carried one of these books around with her hugging it as 
she went. After she had gone to dress a queer-looking package was 
brought by a small boy who hopped on one foot as he handed it 
in and said: “Tell Elnora that is from her ma.” 

“Who are you?” asked the Bird Woman as she took the bundle. 

“I’m Billy!” announced the boy. “I gave her the five dollars. 
I earned it myself dropping corn, sticking onions, and pulling 
weeds. My, but you got to drop, and stick, and pull a lot before 
it’s five dollars’ worth.” 

“Would you like to come in and see Elnora’s gifts?” 

“Yes, ma’am!” said Billy, trying to stand quietly. 

“Gee-mentley !” he gasped. “Does Elnora get all this?” 

“Yes.” 

“I bet you a thousand dollars I be first in my class when I 
graduate. Say, have the others got a lot more than Elnora?” 

“I think not.” 

“Well, Uncle Wesley said to find out if I could, and if she 
didn’t have as much as the rest, he’d buy till she did, if it took a 
hundred dollars. Say, you ought to know him ! He’s just scrump- 
tious! There ain’t anybody anywhere finer ’an he is. My, he’s 
grand!” 

“I’m very sure of it!” said the Bird Woman. “I’ve often heard 
Elnora say so.” 

“I bet you nobody can beat this !” he boasted. Then he stopped, 
thinking deeply. “I don’t know, though,” he began reflectively. 
“Some of them are awful rich; they got big families to give them 
things and wagon loads of friends, and I haven’t seen what they 
have. Now, maybe Elnora is getting left, after all!” 

“Don’t worry, Billy,” she said. “I will watch, and if I find 
Elnora is ‘getting left’ I’ll buy her some more things myself. But 
I’m sure she is not. She has more beautiful gifts now than she will 
know what to do with, and others will come. Tell your Uncle 


ELNORA GRADUATES 


153 

Wesley his girl is bountifully remembered, very happy, and she 
sends her dearest love to all of you. Now you must go, so I can 
help her dress. You will be there tonight, of course?” 

“Yes, sir-ee! She got me a seat, third row from the front, 
middle section, so I can see, and she’s going to wink at me, after 
she gets her speech off her mind. She kissed me, too ! She’s a per- 
fect lady, Elnora is. I’m going to marry her when I am big 
enough.” 

“Why isn’t that splendid!” laughed the Bird Woman as she 
hurried upstairs. 

“Dear!” she called. “Here is another gift for you.” 

Elnora was half disrobed as she took the package and, sitting 
on a couch, opened it. The Bird Woman bent over her and tested 
the fabric with her fingers. 

“Why, bless my soul!” she cried. “Handwoven, hand-embroi- 
dered linen, fine as silk. It’s priceless ! I haven’t seen such things 
in years. My mother had garments like those when I was a child, 
but my sisters had them cut up for collars, belts, and fancy waists 
while I was small. Look at the exquisite work!” 

“Where could it have come from?” cried Elnora. 

She shook out a petticoat, with a hand-wrought ruffle a foot 
deep, then an old-fashioned chemise the neck and sleeve work of 
which was elaborate and perfectly wrought. On the breast was 
pinned a note that she hastily opened. 

“I was married in these,” it read, “and I had intended to be 
buried in them, but perhaps it would be more sensible for you 
to graduate and get married in them yourself, if you like. Your 
mother.” 

“From my mother!” Wide-eyed, Elnora looked at the Bird 
Woman. “I never in my life saw the like. Mother does things 
I think I never can forgive, and when I feel hardest, she turns 
around and does something that makes me think she just must 
love me a little bit, after all. Any of the girls would give almost 
anything to graduate in hand-embroidered linen like that. Money 
can’t buy such things. And they came when I was thinking she 
didn’t care what became of me. Do you suppose she can be in- 
sane?” 


154 A GIRL OF THE LIMBER LOST 

“Yes,” said the Bird Woman. “Wildly insane, if she does not 
love you and care what becomes of you.” 

Elnora arose and held the petticoat to her. “Will you look at 
it?” she cried. “Only imagine her not getting my dress ready, and 
then sending me such a petticoat as this! Ellen would pay fifty 
dollars for it and never blink. I suppose mother has had it all my 
life, and I never saw it before.” 

“Go take your bath and put on those things,” said the Bird 
Woman. “Forget everything and be happy. She is not insane. 
She is embittered. She did not understand how things would be. 
When she saw, she came at once to provide you a dress. This 
is her way of saying she is sorry she did not get the other. You 
notice she has not spent any money, so perhaps she is quite honest 
in saying she has none.” 

“Oh, she is honest!” said Elnora. “She wouldn’t care enough 
to tell an untruth. She’d say just how things were, no matter what 
happened.” 

Soon Elnora was ready for her dress. She never had looked so 
well as when she again headed the processional across the flower 
and palm-decked stage of the high school auditorium. As she 
sat there she could have reached over and dropped a rose she 
carried into the seat she had occupied that September morning 
when she entered the high school. She spoke the few words she 
had to say in behalf of the class beautifully, had the tiny wink 
ready for Billy, and the smile and nod of recognition for Wesley 
and Margaret. When at last she looked into the eyes of a white- 
faced woman next them, she slipped a hand to her side and 
raised her skirt the fraction of an inch, just enough to let the em- 
broidered edge of a petticoat show a trifle. When she saw the 
look of relief which flooded her mother’s face, Elnora knew that 
forgiveness was in her heart, and that she would go home in the 
morning. 

It was late afternoon before she arrived, and a dray followed 
with a load of packages. Mrs. Comstock was overwhelmed. She 
sat half dazed and made Elnora show her each costly and beauti- 
ful or simple and useful gift, tell her carefully what it was and 
from where it came. She studied the faces of Elnora’s particular 


ELNORA GRADUATES 


155 

friends. The gifts from them had to be set in a group. Several times 
she started to speak and then stopped. At last, between her dry 
lips, came a harsh whisper. 

“Elnora, what did you give back for these things?” 

“I’ll show you,” said Elnora cheerfully. “I made the same gifts 
for the Bird Woman, Aunt Margaret and you if you care for it. 
But I have to run upstairs to get it.” 

When she returned she handed her mother an oblong frame, 
hand carved, enclosing Elnora’s picture, taken by a schoolmate’s 
camera. She wore her storm-coat and carried a dripping um- 
brella. From under it looked her bright face; her books and 
lunchbox were on her arm, and across the bottom of the frame 
was carved, “Your Country Classmate.” 

Then she offered another frame. 

“I am strong on frames,” she said. “They seemed to be the best 
I could do without money. I located the maple and the black wal- 
nut myself, in a little corner that had been overlooked between 
the river and the ditch. They didn’t seem to belong to anyone 
so I just took them. Uncle Wesley said it was all right, and he 
cut and hauled them for me. I gave the mill half of each tree for 
sawing and curing the remainder. Then I gave the wood-carver 
half of that for making my frames. A photographer gave me a lot 
of spoiled plates, and I boiled off the emulsion, and took the 
specimens I framed from my stuff. The man said the white frames 
were worth three and a half, and the black ones five. I exchanged 
those little framed pictures for the photographs of the others. For 
presents, I gave each one of my crowd one like this, only a differ- 
ent moth. The Bird Woman gave me the birch bark. She got 
it up north last summer.” 

Elnora handed her mother a handsome black-walnut frame a 
foot and a half wide by two long. It finished a small, shallow 
glass-covered box of birch bark, to the bottom of which clung a 
big night moth with delicate pale green wings and long exquisite 
trailers. 

“So you see I did not have to be ashamed of my gifts,” said 
Elnora. “I made them myself and raised and mounted the 
moths.” 


156 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

“Moth, you call it,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I’ve seen a few of 
the things before.” 

“They are numerous around us every June night, or at least 
they used to be,” said Elnora. “I’ve sold hundreds of them, with 
butterflies, dragonflies, and other specimens. Now, I must put 
away these and get to work, for it is almost June and there are 
a few more I want dreadfully. If I find them I will be paid some 
money for which I have been working.” 

She was afraid to say college at that time. She thought it would 
be better to wait a few days and see if an opportunity would not 
come when it would work in more naturally. Besides, unless she 
could secure the Yellow Emperor she needed to complete her 
collection, she could not talk college until she was of age, for she 
would have no money. 


CHAPTER XII 


Wherein Margaret Sinton Reveals a Secret \ 
and Mrs. Comstock Possesses the 

Limberlost 


“Elnora, bring me the towel, quick!” cried Mrs. Comstock. 

“In a minute, mother,” mumbled Elnora. 

She was standing before the kitchen mirror, tying the back 
part of her hair, while the front turned over her face. 

“Hurry! There’s a varmint of some kind!” 

Elnora ran into the sitting-room and thrust the heavy kitchen 
towel into her mother’s hand. Mrs. Comstock swung open the 
screen door and struck at some object. Elnora tossed the hair 
from her face so that she could see past her mother. The girl 
screamed wildly. 

“Don’t! Mother, don’t!” 

Mrs. Comstock struck again. Elnora caught her arm. 

“It’s the one I want ! It’s worth a lot of money ! Don’t ! Oh, you 
shall not!” 

“Shan’t, missy?” blazed Mrs. Comstock. “When did you get to 
bossing me?” 

The hand that held the screen swept a half-circle and stopped 
at Elnora’s cheek. She staggered with the blow, and across her 
face, paled with excitement, a red mark arose rapidly. The screen 
slammed shut, throwing the creature on the floor before them. In- 
stantly Mrs. Comstock crushed it with her foot. Elnora stepped 
back. Excepting the red mark, her face was very white. 

“That was the last moth I needed,” she said, “to complete a 


158 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

collection worth three hundred dollars. You’ve ruined it before 
my eyes!” 

“Moth!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “You say that because you are 
mad. Moths have big wings. I know a moth!” 

“I’ve kept things from you,” said Elnora, “because I didn’t 
dare confide in you. You had no sympathy with me. But you know 
I never told you untruths in all my life.” 

“It’s no moth!” reiterated Mrs. Comstock. 

“It is!” cried Elnora. “It’s from a case in the ground. Its wings 
take two or three hours to expand and harden.” 

“If I had known it was a moth ” Mrs. Comstock wavered. 

“You did know ! I told you ! I begged you to stop ! It meant 
just three hundred dollars to me.” 

“Bah! Three hundred fiddlesticks!” 

“They are what have paid for books, tuition, and clothes for 
the past four years. They are what I could have started on to 
college. You’ve ruined the very one I needed. You never made any 
pretence of loving me. At last I’ll be equally frank with you. I 
hate you! You are a selfish, wicked woman! I hate you!” 

Elnora turned, went through the kitchen and from the back 
door. She followed the garden path to the gate and walked to- 
ward the swamp a short distance when reaction overtook her. She 
dropped on the ground and leaned against a big log. When a little 
child, desperate as now she had tried to die by holding her breath. 
She had thought in that way to make her mother sorry, but she 
had learned that life was a thing thrust upon her and she could 
not leave it at her wish. 

She was so stunned over the loss of that moth, which she had 
childishly named the Yellow Emperor, that she scarcely re- 
membered the blow. She had thought no luck in all the world 
would be so rare as to complete her collection ; now she had been 
forced to see a splendid Imperialis destroyed before her. There 
was a possibility that she could find another, but she was facing 
the certainty that the one she might have had and with which 
she undoubtedly could have attracted others, was spoiled by her 
mother. How long she sat there Elnora did not know or care. She 
simply suffered in dumb, abject misery, an occasional dry sob 


MARGARET REVEALS A SECRET 159 

shaking her. Aunt Margaret was right. Elnora felt that morning 
that her mother never would be any different. The girl had 
reached the place where she realized that she could endure it no 
longer. 

As Elnora left the room, Mrs. Comstock took one step after 
her. 

“You little huzzy!” she gasped. 

But Elnora was gone. Her mother stood staring. 

“She never did lie to me,” she muttered. “I guess it was a 
moth. And the only one she needed to get three hundred dollars, 
she said. I wish I hadn’t been so fast ! I never saw anything like 
it. I thought it was some deadly, stinging, biting thing. A body 
does have to be mighty careful here. But likely I’ve spilled the 
milk now. Pshaw! She can find another! There’s no use to be 
foolish. Maybe moths are like snakes, where there’s one, there 
are two.” 

Mrs. Comstock took the broom and swept the moth out of the 
door. Then she got down on her knees and carefully examined the 
steps, logs and the earth of the flower beds at each side. She found 
the place where the creature had emerged from the ground, and 
the hard, dark-brown case which had enclosed it, still wet inside. 
Then she knew Elnora had been right. It was a moth. Its wings 
had been damp and not expanded. Mrs. Comstock never before 
had seen one in. that state, and she did not know how they origi- 
nated. She had thought all of them came from cases spun on trees 
or against walls or boards. She had seen only enough to know that 
there were such things ; as a flash of white told her that an ermine 
was on her premises, or a sharp “buzzzzz” warned her of a rattler. 

So it was from creatures like that Elnora had secured her school 
money. In one sickening sweep there rushed into the heart of the 
woman a full realization of the width of the gulf that separated her 
from her child. Lately many things had pointed toward it, none 
more plainly than when Elnora, like a reincarnation of her father, 
had stood fearlessly before a large city audience and played with 
even greater skill than he, on what Mrs. Comstock felt very cer- 
tain was his violin. But that little crawling creature of earth, 
crushed by her before its splendid yellow and lavender wings 


l6o A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

could spread and carry it into the mystery of night, had per- 
formed a miracle. 

“We are nearer strangers to each other than we are with any 
of the neighbors,” she muttered. 

So one of the Almighty’s most delicate and beautiful creations 
was sacrificed without fulfilling the law, yet none of its species ever 
served so glorious a cause, for at last Mrs. Comstock’s inner vision 
had cleared. She went through the cabin mechanically. Every 
few minutes she glanced toward the back walk to see if Elnora 
were coming. She knew arrangements had been made with Mar- 
garet to go to the city some time that day, so she grew more 
nervous and uneasy every moment. She was haunted by the fear 
that the blow might discolor Elnora’s cheek; that she would tell 
Margaret. She went down the back walk, looking intently in all 
directions, left the garden and followed the swamp path. Her step 
was noiseless on the soft, black earth, and soon she came close 
enough to see Elnora. Mrs. Comstock stood looking at the girl 
in troubled uncertainty. Not knowing what to say, at last she 
turned and went back to the cabin. 

Noon came and she prepared dinner, calling, as she always did, 
when Elnora was in the garden, but she got no response, and the 
girl did not come. A little after one o’clock Margaret stopped at 
the gate. 

“Elnora has changed her mind. She is not going,” called Mrs. 
Comstock. 

She felt that she hated Margaret as she hitched her horse and 
came up the walk instead of driving on. 

“You must be mistaken,” said Margaret. “I was going on 
purpose for her. She asked me to take her. I had no errand. 
Where is she?” 

“I will call her,” said Mrs. Comstock. 

She followed the path again, and this time found Elnora sit- 
ting on the log. Her face was swollen and discolored, and her 
eyes red with crying. She paid no attention to her mother. 

“Mag Sinton is here,” said Mrs. Comstock harshly. “I told her 
you had changed your mind, but she said you asked her to go 
with you, and she had nothing to go for herself.” 


MARGARET REVEALS A SECRET l6l 

Elnora arose, recklessly waded through the deep swamp grasses 
and so reached the path ahead of her mother. Mrs. Comstock 
followed as far as the garden, but she could not enter the cabin. 
She busied herself among the vegetables, barely looking up when 
the back-door screen slammed noisily. Margaret Sinton ap- 
proached colorless, her eyes so angry that Mrs. Comstock shrank 
back. 

“What’s the matter with Elnora’s face?” demanded Margaret. 

Mrs. Comstock made no reply. 

“You struck her, did you?” 

“I thought you wasn’t blind!” 

“I have been, for twenty long years now, Kate Comstock,” 
said Margaret Sinton, “but my eyes are open at last. What I see 
is that I’ve done you no good and Elnora a big wrong. I had an 
idea that it would kill you to know, but I guess you are tough 
enough to stand anything. Kill or cure, you get it now!” 

“What are you frothing about?” coolly asked Mrs. Comstock. 

“You!” cried Margaret. “You! The woman who doesn’t pre- 
tend to love her only child. Who lets her grow to a woman, as 
you have let Elnora, and can’t be satisfied with every sort of 
neglect, but must add abuse yet; and all for a fool idea about a 
man who wasn’t worth his salt!” 

Mrs. Comstock picked up a hoe. 

“Go right on!” she said. “Empty yourself. It’s the last thing 
you’ll ever do!” 

“Then I’ll make a tidy job of it,” said Margaret. “You’ll not 
touch me. You’ll stand there and hear the truth at last, and be- 
cause I dare face you and tell it, you will know in your soul it is 
truth. When Robert Comstock shaved that quagmire out there 
so close he went in, he wanted to keep you from knowing where 
he was coming from. He’d been to see Elvira Carney. They had 
plans to go to a dance that night ” 

“Close your lips!” said Mrs. Comstock in a voice of deadly 
quiet. 

“You know I wouldn’t dare open them if I wasn’t telling you 
the truth. I can prove what I say. I was coming from Reeds. It 
was hot in the woods and I stopped at Carney’s as I passed for a 


162 a girl of the limberlost 

drink. Elvira’s bedridden old mother heard me, and she was so 
crazy for someone to talk with, I stepped in a minute. I saw 
Robert come down the path. Elvira saw him, too, so she ran out 
of the house to head him off. It looked funny, and I just de- 
liberately moved where I could see and hear. He brought her his 
violin, and told her to get ready and meet him in the woods 
with it that night, and they would go to a dance. She took it and 
hid it in the loft to the well-house and promised she’d go.” 

“Are you done?” demanded Mrs. Comstock. 

“No. I am going to tell you the whole story. You don’t spare 
Elnora anything. I shan’t spare you. I hadn’t been here that day, 
but I can tell you just how he was dressed, which way he went 
and every word they said, though they thought I was busy with 
her mother and wouldn’t notice them. Put down your hoe, Kate. 
I went to Elvira, told her what I knew and made her give me 
Comstock’s violin for Elnora over three years ago. She’s been 
playing it ever since. I won’t see her slighted and abused another 
day on account of a man who would have broken your heart if he 
had lived. Six months more would have showed you what every- 
body else knew. He was one of those men who couldn’t trust him- 
self, and so no woman was safe with him. Now, will you drop 
grieving over him, and do Elnora justice?” 

Mrs. Comstock grasped the hoe tighter and turning she went 
down the walk, and started across the woods to the home of 
Elvira Carney. With averted head she passed the pool, steadily 
pursuing her way. Elvira Carney, hanging towels across the back 
fence, saw her coming and went toward the gate to meet her. 
Twenty years she had dreaded that visit. Since Margaret Sinton 
had compelled her to produce the violin she had hidden so long, 
because she was afraid to destroy it, she had come closer ex- 
pectation than dread. The wages of sin are the hardest debts on 
earth to pay, and they are always collected at inconvenient times 
and unexpected places. Mrs. Comstock’s face and hair were so 
white that her dark eyes seemed burned into their setting. Si- 
lently she stared at the woman before her a long time. 

“I might have saved myself the trouble of coming,” she said 
at last. “I see you are guilty as sin !” 


MARGARET REVEALS A SECRET 163 

What has Mag Sinton been telling you?” panted the miserable 
woman, gripping the fence. 

“The truth!” answered Mrs. Comstock succinctly. “Guilt is in 
every line of your face, in your eyes, all over your wretched body. 
If I’d taken a good look at you any time in all these past years, 
no doubt I could have seen it just as plain as I can now. No 
woman or man can do what you’ve done, and not get a mark set 
on them for everyone to read.” 

“Mercy!” gasped weak little Elvira Carney. “Have mercy!” 

“Mercy?” scoffed Mrs. Comstock. “Mercy! That’s a nice word 
from you ! How much mercy did you have on me? Where’s the 
mercy that sent Comstock to the slime of the bottomless quag- 
mire, and left me to see it, and then struggle on in agony all these 
years? How about the mercy of letting me neglect my baby all 
the days of her life? Mercy! Do you really dare use the word to 
me?” 

“If you knew what I’ve suffered!” 

“Suffered?” jeered Mrs. Comstock. “That’s interesting. And 
pray, what have you suffered?” 

“All the neighbors have suspected and been down on me. 
I ain’t had a friend. I’ve always felt guilty of his death ! I’ve seen 
him go down a thousand times, plain as ever you did. Many’s 
the night I’ve stood on the other bank of that pool and listened 
to you, and I tried to throw myself in to keep from hearing you, 
but I didn’t dare. I knew God would send me to burn forever, 
but I’d better done it; for now, He has set the burning on my 
body, and every hour it is slowly eating the life out of me. The 
doctor says it’s a cancer ” 

Mrs. Comstock exhaled a long breath. Her grip on the hoe 
relaxed and her stature lifted to towering height. 

“I didn’t know, or care, when I came here, just what I did,” 
she said. “But my way is beginning to clear. If the guilt of your 
soul has come to a head, in a cancer on your body, it looks as if 
the Almighty didn’t need any of my help in meting out His 
punishments. I really couldn’t fix up anything to come anywhere 
near that. If you are going to burn until your life goes out with 
that sort of fire, you don’t owe me anything!” 


164 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

“Oh, Katharine Comstock !” groaned Elvira Carney, clinging 
to the fence for support. 

“Looks as if the Bible is right when it says, ‘The wages of sin 
is death,’ doesn’t it?” asked Mrs. Comstock. “Instead of doing a 
woman’s work in life, you chose the smile of invitation, and the 
dress of unearned cloth. Now you tell me you are marked to burn 
to death with the unquenchable fire. And him! It was shorter 
with him, but let me tell you he got his share ! He left me with an 
untruth on his lips, for he told me he was going to take his violin 
to Onabasha for a new key, when he carried it to you. Every vow 
of love and constancy he ever made me was a lie, after he touched 
your lips, so when he tried the wrong side of the quagmire, to hide 
from me the direction in which he was coming, it reached out 
for him, and it got him. It didn’t hurry, either! It sucked him 
down, slow and deliberate.” 

“Mercy!” groaned Elvira Carney. “Mercy!” 

“I don’t know the word,” said Mrs. Comstock. “You took all 
that out of me long ago. The past twenty years haven’t been of 
the sort that taught mercy. I’ve never had any on myself and none 
on my child. Why in the name of justice, should I have mercy on 
you, or on him? You were both older than I, both strong, sane 
people, you deliberately chose your course when you lured him, 
and he, when he was unfaithful to me. When a Loose Man and 
a Light Woman face the end the Almighty ordained for them, 
why should they shout at me for mercy? What did I have to do 
with it?” 

Elvira Carney sobbed in panting gasps. 

“You’ve got tears, have you?” marveled Mrs. Comstock. 
“Mine all dried long ago. I’ve none left to shed over my wasted 
life, my disfigured face and hair, my years of struggle with a man’s 
work, my wreck of land among the tilled fields of my neighbors, 
or the final knowledge that the man I so gladly would have died 
to save, wasn’t worth the sacrifice of a rattlesnake. If anything 
yet could wring a tear from me, it would be the thought of the 
awful injustice I always have done my girl. If I’d lay hand on 
you for anything, it would be for that.” 


MARGARET REVEALS A SECRET 165 

“Kill me if you want to,” sobbed Elvira Carney. “I know 
that I deserve it, and I don’t care.” 

“You are getting your killing fast enough to suit me,” said 
Mrs. Comstock. “I wouldn’t touch you, any more than I would 
him, if I could. Once is all any man or woman deceives me about 
the holiest things of life. I wouldn’t touch you any more than I 
would the black plague. I am going back to my girl.” 

Mrs. Comstock turned and started swiftly through the woods, 
but she had gone only a few rods when she stopped, and leaning 
on the hoe, she stood thinking deeply. Then she turned back. 
Elvira still clung to the fence, sobbing bitterly. 

“I don’t know,” said Mrs. Comstock, “but I left a wrong 
impression with you. I don’t want you to think that I believe the 
Almighty set a cancer to burning you as a punishment for your 
sins. I don’t ! I think a lot more of the Almighty. With a whole 
sky full of worlds on His hands to manage, I’m not believing that 
He has time to look down on ours, and pick you out of all the 
millions of us sinners, and set a special kind of torture to eating 
you. It wouldn’t be a gentlemanly thing to do, and first of all, 
the Almighty is bound to be a gentleman. I think likely a bruise 
and bad blood is what caused your trouble. Anyway, I’ve got to 
tell you that the cleanest housekeeper I ever knew, and one of 
the noblest Christian women, was slowly eaten up by a cancer. 
She got hers from the careless work of a poor doctor. The Al- 
mighty is to forgive sin and heal disease, not to invent and spread 
it.” 

She had gone only a few steps when she again turned back. 

“If you will gather a lot of red clover bloom, make a tea strong 
as lye of it, and drink quarts, I think likely it will help you, if you 
are not too far gone. Anyway, it will cool your blood and make 
the burning easier to bear.” 

Then she swiftly went home. Enter the lonely cabin she could 
not, neither could she sit outside and think. She attacked a bed 
of beets and hoed until the perspiration ran from her face and 
body, then she began on the potatoes. When she was too tired 
to take another stroke she bathed and put on dry clothing. In 


1 66 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

securing her dress she noticed her husband’s carefully preserved 
clothing lining one wall. She gathered it in an armload and car- 
ried it to the swamp. Piece by piece she pitched into the green 
maw of the quagmire all those articles she had dusted carefully 
and fought moths from for years, and stood watching as it slowly 
sucked them down. She went back to her room and gathered 
every scrap that had in any way belonged to Robert Comstock, 
excepting his gun and revolver, and threw it into the swamp. Then 
for the first time she set her door wide open. 

She was too weary now to do more, but an urging unrest drove 
her. She wanted Elnora. It seemed to her she never could wait 
until the girl came and delivered her judgment. At last in an 
effort to get nearer to her, Mrs. Comstock climbed the stairs 
and stood looking around Elnora’s room. It was very unfamiliar. 
The pictures were strange to her. Commencement had filled it 
with packages and bundles. The walls were covered with cocoons ; 
moths and dragonflies were pinned everywhere. Under the bed 
she could see half a dozen large white boxes. She pulled out one 
and lifted the lid. The bottom was covered with a sheet of thin 
cork, and on long pins sticking in it were large, velvet-winged 
moths. Each one was labeled, always there were two of a kind, 
in many cases four, showing under and upper wings of both male 
and female. They were of every color and shape. 

Mrs. Comstock caught her breath sharply. When and where 
had Elnora found them? They were the most exquisite sight the 
woman ever had seen, so she opened all the boxes to feast on 
their beautiful contents. As she did so there came more fully a 
sense of the distance between her and her child. She could not 
understand how Elnora had gone to school, and performed so 
much work secretly. When it was finished, to the last moth, she, 
the mother who should have been the first confidant and helper, 
had been the one to bring disappointment. Small wonder Elnora 
had come to hate her. 

Mrs. Comstock carefully closed and replaced the boxes, and 
again stood looking around the room. This time her eyes rested on 
some books she did not remember having seen before, so she 
picked up one and found that it was a moth book. She glanced 


MARGARET REVEALS A SECRET 167 

over the first pages and was soon eagerly reading. When the text 
reached the classification of species, she laid it down, took up 
another and read the introductory chapters. By that time her 
brain was in a confused jumble of ideas about capturing moths 
with differing baits and bright lights. 

She went downstairs thinking deeply. Being unable to sit still 
and having nothing else to do she glanced at the clock and began 
preparing supper. The work dragged. A chicken was snatched up 
and dressed hurriedly. A spice cake sprang into being. Straw- 
berries that had been intended for preserves went into shortcake. 
Delicious odors crept from the cabin. She put many extra 
touches on the table and then commenced watching the road. 
Everything was ready, but Elnora did not come. Then began the 
anxious process of trying to keep cooked food warm and not spoil 
it. The birds went to bed and dusk came. Mrs. Comstock gave up 
the fire and set the supper on the table. Then she went out and sat 
on the front-door step watching night creep around her. She 
started eagerly as the gate creaked, but it was only Wesley Sinton 
coming. 

“Katharine, Margaret and Elnora passed where I was working 
this afternoon, and Margaret got out of the carriage and called 
me to the fence. She told me what she had done. I’ve come to say 
to you that I am sorry. She has heard me threaten to do it a good 
many times, but I never would have got it done. I’d give a good 
deal if I could undo it, but I can’t, so I’ve come to tell you how 
sorry I am.” 

“You’ve got something to be sorry for,” said Mrs. Comstock, 
“but likely we ain’t thinking of the same thing. It hurts me less to 
know the truth than to live in ignorance. If Mag had the sense of 
a pewee, she’d told me long ago. That’s what hurts me, to think 
that both of you knew Robert was not worth an hour of honest 
grief, yet you’d let me mourn him all these years and neglect 
Elnora while I did it. If I have anything to forgive you, that is 
what it is.” 

Wesley removed his hat and sat on a bench. 

“Katharine,” he said solemnly, “nobody ever knows how to 
take you.” 


l68 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 


“Would it be asking too much to take me for having a few 
grains of plain common sense?” she inquired. “You’ve known all 
this time that Comstock got what he deserved, when he under- 
took to sneak in an unused way across a swamp, with which he 
was none too familiar. Now I should have thought that you’d 
figure that knowing the same thing would be the best method to 
cure me of pining for him, and slighting my child.” 

“Heaven only knows we have thought of that, and talked of it 
often, but we were both too big cowards. We didn’t dare tell 
you.” 

“So you have gone on year after year, watching me show in- 
difference to Elnora, and yet a little horse-sense would have 
pointed out to you that she was my salvation. Why, look at it ! Not 
married quite a year. All his vows of love and fidelity made to me 
before the Almighty forgotten in a few months, and a dance and 
a Light Woman so alluring he had to lie and sneak for them. What 
kind of a prospect is that for a life? I know men and women. An 
honorable man is an honorable man, and a liar is a liar; both 
are bom and not made. One cannot change to the other any more 
than that same old leopard can change its spots. After a man tells 
a woman the first untruth of that sort, the others come piling thick, 
fast, and mountain high. The desolation they bring in their wake 
overshadows anything I have suffered completely. If he had lived 
six months more I should have known him for what he was bom 
to be. It was in the blood of him. His father and grandfather 
before him were fiddling, dancing people; but I was certain of 
him. I thought we could leave Ohio and come out here alone, and 
I could so love him and interest him in his work, that he would be 
a man. Of all the fool, fruitless jobs, making anything of a 
creature that begins by deceiving her, is the foolest a sane woman 
ever undertook. I am more than sorry you and Margaret didn’t 
see your way clear to tell me long ago. I’d have found it out in a 
few more months if he had lived, and I wouldn’t have borne it a 
day. The man who breaks his vows to me once, doesn’t get the 
second chance. I give truth and honor. I have a right to ask 
it in return. I am glad I understand at last. Now, if Elnora will 
forgive me, we will take a new start and see what we can make 


MARGARET REVEALS A SECRET 169 

out of what is left of life. If she won’t, then it will be my time to 
learn what suffering really means.” 

“But she will,” said Wesley. “She must! She can’t help it when 
things are explained.” 

“I notice she isn’t hurrying any about coming home. Do you 
know where she is or what she is doing?” 

“I do not. But likely she will be along soon. I must go help 
Billy with the night work. Good-bye, Katharine. Thank the Lord 
you have come to yourself at last !” 

They shook hands and Wesley went down the road while Mrs. 
Comstock entered the cabin. She could not swallow food. She 
stood in the back door watching the sky for moths, but they did 
not seem to be very numerous. Her spirits sank and she breathed 
unevenly. Then she heard the front screen. She reached the 
middle door as Elnora touched the foot of the stairs. 

“Hurry, and get ready, Elnora,” she said. “Your supper is 
almost spoiled now.” 

Elnora closed the stair door behind her, and for the first time in 
her life, threw the heavy lever which barred out anyone from 
downstairs. Mrs. Comstock heard the thud, and knew what it 
meant. She reeled slightly and caught the doorpost for support. 
For a few minutes she clung there, then sank to the nearest chair. 
After a long time she arose and stumbling half blindly, she put the 
food in the cupboard and covered the table. She took the lamp 
in one hand, the butter in the other, and started to the spring 
house. Something brushed close her face, and she looked just 
in time to see a winged creature rise above the cabin and sail 
away. 

“That was a night bird,” she muttered. As she stopped to set 
the butter in the water, came another thought. “Perhaps it was a 
moth !” Mrs. Comstock dropped the butter and hurried out with 
the lamp; she held it high above her head and waited until her 
arms ached. Small insects of night gathered, and at last a little 
dusty miller, but nothing came of any size. 

“I must go where they are, if I get them,” muttered Mrs. 
Comstock. 

She went to the bam after the stout pair of high boots she 


170 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

used in feeding stock in deep snow. Throwing these beside the 
back door she climbed to the loft over the spring house, and 
hunted an old lard oil lantern and one of first manufacture for oil. 
Both these she cleaned and filled. She listened until everything up 
stairs had been still for over half an hour. By that time it was 
past eleven o’clock. Then she took the lantern from the kitchen, 
and two old ones, a handful of matches, a ball of twine, and 
went from the cabin, softly closing the door. 

Sitting on the back steps, she put on the boots, and then stood 
gazing into the perfumed June night, first in the direction of the 
woods on her land, then toward the Limberlost. Its outline was so 
dark and forbidding she shuddered and went down the garden, 
following the path toward the woods, but as she neared the pool 
her knees wavered and her courage fled. The knowledge that in 
her soul she was now glad Robert Comstock was at the bottom 
of it made a coward of her, who fearlessly had mourned him 
there, nights untold. She could not go on. She skirted the back 
of the garden, crossed a field, and came out on the road. Soon she 
reached the Limberlost. She hunted until she found the old trail, 
then followed it stumbling over logs and through clinging vines 
and grasses. The heavy boots clumped on her feet, overhanging 
branches whipped her face and pulled her hair. But her eyes 
were on the sky as she went straining into the night, hoping to 
find signs of a living creature on wing. 

By and by she began to see the wavering flight of something she 
thought near the right size. She had no idea where she was, but 
she stopped, lighted a lantern and hung it as high as she could 
reach. A little distance away she placed the second and then the 
third. The objects came nearer and sick with disappointment she 
saw that they were bats. Crouching in the damp swamp grasses, 
without a thought of snakes or venomous insects, she waited, her 
eyes roving from lantern to lantern. Once she thought a creature 
of high flight dropped near the lard oil light, so she arose breath- 
lessly waiting, but either it passed or it was an illusion. She 
glanced at the old lantern, then at the new, and was on her feet 
in an instant creeping close. Something large as a small bird was 
fluttering around. Mrs. Comstock began to perspire, while her 


MARGARET REVEALS A SECRET 171 

hand shook wildly. Closer she crept and just as she reached for it, 
something similar swept past and both flew away together. 

Mrs. Comstock set her teeth and stood shivering. For a long 
time the locusts rasped, the whip-poor-wills cried and a steady 
hum of night life throbbed in her ears. Away in the sky she saw 
something coming when it was no larger than a falling leaf. 
Straight toward the light it flew. Mrs. Comstock began to pray 
aloud. 

“This way, O Lord ! Make it come this way ! Please ! O Lord, 
send it lower!” 

The moth hesitated at the first light, then slowly, easily it came 
toward the second, as if following a path of air. It touched a leaf 
near the lantern and settled. As Mrs. Comstock reached for it a 
thin yellow spray wet her hand and the surrounding leaves. When 
its wings raised above its back, her fingers came together. She 
held the moth to the light. It was nearer brown than yellow, and 
she remembered having seen some like it in the boxes that after- 
noon. It was not the one needed to complete the collection, but 
Elnora might want it, so Mrs. Comstock held on. Then the 
Almighty was kind, or nature was sufficient, as you look at it, for 
following the law of its being when disturbed, the moth again 
threw the spray by which some suppose it attracts its kind, and 
liberally sprinkled Mrs. Comstock’s dress front and arms. From 
that instant, she became the best moth bait ever invented. Every 
Polyphemus in range hastened to her, and other fluttering crea- 
tures of night followed. The influx came her way. She snatched 
wildly here and there until she had one in each hand and no 
place to put them. She could see more coming, and her aching 
heart, swollen with the strain of long excitement, hurt pitifully. 
She prayed in broken exclamations that did not always sound 
reverent, but never was human soul in more intense earnest. 

Moths were coming. She had one in each hand. They were not 
yellow, and she did not know what to do. She glanced around to 
try to discover some way to keep what she had, and her throbbing 
heart stopped and every muscle stiffened. There was the dim out- 
line of a crouching figure not two yards away, and a pair of eyes 
their owner thought hidden, caught the light in a cold stream. 


.172 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

Her first impulse was to scream and fly for life. Before her lips 
could open a big moth alighted on her breast while she felt 
another walking over her hair. All sense of caution deserted her. 
She did not care to live if she could not replace the yellow moth 
she had killed. She turned her eyes to those among the leaves. 

“Here, you!” she cried hoarsely. “I need you ! Get yourself out 
here, and help me. These critters are going to get away from me. 
Hustle!” 

Pete Corson parted the bushes and stepped into the light. 

“Oh, it’s you!” said Mrs. Comstock. “I might have known! 
But you gave me a start. Here, hold these until I make some sort 
of bag for them. Go easy! If you break them I don’t guarantee 
what will happen to you !” 

“Pretty fierce, ain’t you!” laughed Pete, but he advanced and 
held out his hands. “For Elnora, I s’pose?” 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Comstock. “In a mad fit, I trampled one this 
morning, and by the luck of the old boy himself it was the last 
moth she needed to complete a collection. I got to get another one 
or die.” 

“Then I guess it’s your funeral,” said Pete. “There ain’t a 
chance in a dozen the right one will come. What color was it?” 

“Yellow, and big as a bird.” 

“The Emperor, likely,” said Pete. “You dig for that kind, and 
they are not numerous, so’s ’at you can smash ’em for fun.” 

“Well, I can try to get one, anyway,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I 
forgot all about bringing anything to put them in. You take a 
pinch on their wings until I make a poke.” 

Mrs. Comstock removed her apron, tearing off the strings. She 
unfastened and stepped from the skirt of her calico dress. With 
one apron string she tied shut the band and placket. She pulled 
a wire pin from her hair, stuck it through the other string, and 
using it as a bodkin ran it around the hem of her skirt, so shortly 
she had a large bag. She put several branches inside to which 
the moths could cling, closed the mouth partially and held it 
toward Pete. 

“Put your hand well down and let the things go!” she ordered. 
“But be careful, man! Don’t run into the twigs! Easy! That’s 


MARGARET REVEALS A SECRET I 73 

one. Now the other. Is the one on my head gone? There was one 
on my dress, but I guess it flew. Here comes a kind of a gray- 
looking one.” 

Pete slipped several more moths into the bag. 

“Now, that’s five, Mrs. Comstock,” he said. “I’m sorry, but 
you’ll have to make that do. You must get out of here lively. 
Your lights will be taken for hurry calls, and inside the next hour 
a couple of men will ride here like fury. They won’t be nice 
Sunday-school men, and they won’t hold bags and catch moths 
for you. You must go quick!” 

Mrs. Comstock laid down the bag and pulled one of the lanterns 
lower. 

“I won’t budge a step,” she said. “This land doesn’t belong 
to you. You have no right to order me off it. Here I stay until I 
get a Yellow Emperor, and no little petering thieves of this neigh- 
borhood can scare me away.” 

“You don’t understand,” said Pete. “I’m willing to help Elnora, 
and I’d take care of you, if I could, but there will be too many 
for me, and they will be mad at being called out for nothing.” 

“Well, who’s calling them out?” demanded Mrs. Comstock. 
“I’m catching moths. If a lot of good-for-nothings get fooled into 
losing some sleep, why let them, they can’t hurt me, or stop my 
work.” 

“They can, and they’ll do both.” 

“Well, I’ll see them do it!” said Mrs. Comstock. “I’ve got 
Robert’s revolver in my dress, and I can shoot as straight as any 
man, if I’m mad enough. Anyone who interferes with me tonight 
will find me mad a-plenty. There goes another!” 

She stepped into the light and waited until a big brown moth 
settled on her and was easily taken. Then in light, airy flight came 
a delicate pale green thing, and Mrs. Comstock started in pursuit. 
But the scent was not right. The moth fluttered high, then dropped 
lower, still lower, and sailed away. With outstretched hands Mrs. 
Comstock pursued it. She hurried one way and another, then ran 
over an object which tripped her and she fell. She regained her feet 
in an instant, but she had lost sight of the moth. With livid face 
she turned to the crouching man. 


174 A GI R L OF THE LIMBERLOST 

“You nasty, sneaking son of Satan!” she cried. “Why are you 
hiding there? You made me lose the one I wanted most of any 
I’ve had a chance at yet. Get out of here ! Go this minute, or I’ll 
fill your worthless carcass so full of holes you’ll do to sift cornmeal. 
Go, I say! I’m using the Limberlost tonight, and I won’t be 
stopped by the devil himself! Cut like fury, and tell the rest of 
them they can just go home. Pete is going to help me, and he is 
all of you I need. Now go!” 

The man turned and went. Pete leaned against a tree, held 
his mouth shut and shook inwardly. Mrs. Comstock came back 
panting. 

“The old scoundrel made me lose that!” she said. “If any- 
one else comes snooping around here I’ll just blow them up to 
start with. I haven’t time to talk. Suppose that had been yellow ! 
I’d have killed that man, sure ! The Limberlost isn’t safe tonight, 
and the sooner those whelps find it out, the better it will be 
for them.” 

Pete stopped laughing to look at her. He saw that she was 
speaking the truth. She was quite past reason, sense, or fear. The 
soft night air stirred the wet hair around her temples, the flicker- 
ing lanterns made her face a ghastly green. She would stop at noth- 
ing, that was evident. Pete suddenly began catching moths with 
exemplary industry. In putting one into the bag, another escaped. 

“We must not try that again,” said Mrs. Comstock. “Now, 
what will we do?” 

“We are close to the old case,” said Pete. “I think I can get into 
it. Maybe we could slip the rest in there.” 

“That’s a fine idea!” said Mrs. Comstock. “They’ll have so 
much room there they won’t be likely to hurt themselves, and the 
books say they don’t fly in daytime unless they are disturbed, so 
they will settle when it’s light, and I can come with Elnora to 
get them.” 

They captured two more, and then Pete carried them to the 
case. 

“Here comes a big one !” he cried as he returned. 

Mrs. Comstock looked up and stepped out with a prayer on her 


MARGARET REVEALS A SECRET 1 75 

lips. She could not tell the color at that distance, but the moth 
appeared different from the others. On it came, dropping lower 
and darting from light to light. As it swept near her, “O Heavenly 
Father!” exulted Mrs. Comstock, “it’s yellow! Careful, Pete! 
Your hat, maybe!” 

Pete made a long sweep. The moth wavered above the hat and 
sailed away. Mrs. Comstock leaned against a tree and covered her 
face with her shaking hands. 

“That is my punishment!” she cried. “Oh, Lord, if you will 
give a moth like that into my possession, I’ll always be a better 
woman!” 

The Emperor again came in sight. Pete stood tense and ready. 
Mrs. Comstock stepped into the light and watched the moth’s 
course. Then a second appeared in pursuit of the first. The larger 
one wavered into the radius of light once more. The perspiration 
rolled down the man’s face. He half lifted the hat. 

“Pray, woman! Pray now!” he panted. 

“I guess I best get over by that lard oil light and go to work,” 
breathed Mrs. Comstock. “The Lord knows this is all in prayer, 
but it’s no time for words just now. Ready, Pete! You are going 
to get a chance first!” 

Pete made another long, steady sweep, but the moth darted 
beneath the hat. In its flight it came straight toward Mrs. Com- 
stock. She snatched off the remnant of apron she had tucked into 
her petticoat band and held the calico before her. The moth struck 
full against it and clung to the goods. Pete crept up stealthily. 
The second moth followed the first, and the spray showered 
the apron. 

“Wait !” gasped Mrs. Comstock. “I think they have settled. The 
books say they won’t leave now.” 

The big pale yellow creature clung firmly, lowering and raising 
its wings. The other came nearer. Mrs. Comstock held the cloth 
with rigid hands, while Pete could hear her breathing in short 
gusts. 

“Shall I try now?” he implored. 

“Wait !” whispered the woman. “Something seems to say wait !” 


.176 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

The night breeze stiffened and gently waved the apron. Locusts 
rasped, mosquitoes hummed and frogs sang uninterruptedly. A 
musky odor slowly filled the air. 

“Now shall I?” questioned Pete. 

“No. Leave them alone. They are safe now. They are mine. 
They are my salvation. God and the Limberlost gave them to me ! 
They won’t move for hours. The books all say so. O Heavenly 
Father, I am thankful to You, and you, too, Pete Corson! You 
are a good man to help me. Now, I can go home and face my 
girl.” 

Instead, Mrs. Comstock dropped suddenly. She spread the 
apron across her knees. The moths remained undisturbed. Then 
her tired white head dropped, the tears she had thought forever 
dried gushed forth, and she sobbed for pure joy. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that now, you know!” comforted Pete. 
“Think of getting two! That’s more than you ever could have 
expected. A body would think you would cry if you hadn’t got 
any. Come on, now. It’s almost morning. Let me help you home.” 

Pete took the bag and the two old lanterns. Mrs. Comstock 
carried her moths and the best lantern and went ahead to light the 
way. 

Elnora had sat beside her window far into the night. At last she 
undressed and went to bed, but sleep would not come. She had 
gone to the city to talk with members of the School Board about 
a room in the grades. There was a possibility that she might secure 
the moth, and so be able to start to college that fall, but if she did 
not, then she wanted the school. She had been given some en- 
couragement, but she was so unhappy that nothing mattered. She 
could not see the way open to anything in life, save a long series 
of disappointments, while she remained with her mother. Yet 
Margaret Sinton had advised her to go home and try once more. 
Margaret had seemed so sure there would be a change for the 
better, that Elnora had consented, although she had no hope her- 
self. So strong is the bond of blood, she could not make up her 
mind to seek a home elsewhere, even after the day that had passed. 
Unable to sleep she arose at last, and the room being warm, she 
sat on the floor close the window. The lights in the swamp caught 


MARGARET REVEALS A SECRET 177 

her eye. She was very uneasy, for quite a hundred of her best 
moths were in the case. However, there was no money, and no one 
ever had touched a book or any of her apparatus. Watching the 
lights set her thinking, and before she realized it, she was in a 
panic of fear. 

She hurried down the stairway softly calling her mother. There 
was no answer. She lightly stepped across the sitting-room and 
looked in at the open door. There was no one, and the bed had 
not been used. Her first thought was that her mother had gone to 
the pool ; and the Limberlost was alive with signals. Pity and fear 
mingled in the heart of the girl. She opened the kitchen door, 
crossed the garden and ran back to the swamp. As she neared it 
she listened, but she could hear only the usual voices of night. 

“Mother!” she called softly. Then louder, “Mother!” 

There was not a sound. Chilled with fright she hurried back 
to the cabin. She did not know what to do. She understood what 
the lights in the Limberlost meant. Where was her mother? She 
was afraid to enter, while she was growing very cold and still 
more fearful about remaining outside. At last she went to her 
mother’s room, picked up the gun, carried it into the kitchen, and 
crowding in a little corner behind the stove, she waited in 
trembling anxiety. The time was dreadfully long before she 
heard her mother’s voice. Then she decided someone had been ill 
and sent for her, so she took courage, and stepping swiftly across 
the kitchen she unbarred the door and drew back from sight 
beside the table. 

Mrs. Comstock entered dragging her heavy feet. Her dress skirt 
was gone, her petticoat wet and drabbled, and the waist of her 
dress was almost tom from her body. Her hair hung in damp 
strings; her eyes were red with crying. In one hand she held the 
lantern, and in the other stiffly extended before her, on a wad of 
calico reposed a magnificent pair of Yellow Emperors. Elnora 
stared, her lips parted. 

“Shall I put these others in the kitchen?” inquired a man’s 
voice. 

The girl shrank back to the shadows. 

“Yes, anywhere inside the door,” replied Mrs. Comstock as she 


1 78 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

moved a few steps to make way for him. Pete’s head appeared. 
He set down the moths and was gone. 

“Thank you, Pete, more than ever woman thanked you 
before!” said Mrs. Comstock. 

She placed the lantern on the table and barred the door. As she 
turned Elnora came into view. Mrs. Comstock leaned toward her, 
and held out the moths. In a voice vibrant with tones never before 
heard she said: “Elnora, my girl, mother’s found you another 
moth!” 


CHAPTER XIII 


Wherein Mother Love Is Bestowed on 
Elnora, and She Finds an Assistant 
in Moth Hunting 


Elnora awoke at dawn and lay gazing around the unfamiliar 
room. She noticed that every vestige of masculine attire and be- 
longings was gone, and knew, without any explanation, what that 
meant. For some reason every tangible evidence of her father was 
banished, and she was at last to be allowed to take his place. 
She turned to look at her mother. Mrs. Comstock’s face was white 
and haggard, but on it rested an expression of profound peace 
Elnora never before had seen. As she studied the features on the 
pillow beside her, the heart of the girl throbbed in tenderness. She 
realized as fully as anyone else could what her mother had 
suffered. Thoughts of the night brought shuddering fear. She 
softly slipped from the bed, went to her room, dressed and entered 
the kitchen to attend the Emperors and prepare breakfast. The 
pair had been left clinging to the piece of calico. The calico was 
there and a few pieces of beautiful wing. A mouse had eaten the 
moths ! 

“Well, of all the horrible luck!” gasped Elnora. 

With the first thought of her mother, she caught up the rem- 
nants of the moths, burying them in the ashes of the stove. She 
took the bag to her room, hurriedly releasing its contents, but 
there was not another yellow one. Her mother had said some had 
been confined in the case in the Limberlost. There was still a hope 
that an Emperor might be among them. She peeped at her mother, 
who still slept soundly. 


l8o A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 


Elnora took a large piece of mosquito netting, and ran to the 
swamp. Throwing it over the top of the case, she unlocked the 
door. She reeled, faint with distress. The living moths that had 
been confined there in their fluttering to escape to night and the 
mates they sought not only had wrecked the other specimens of 
the case, but tom themselves to fringes on the pins. A third of the 
rarest moths of the collection for the man of India were antennae- 
less, legless, wingless, and often headless. Elnora sobbed aloud. 

“This is overwhelming,” she said at last. “It is making a fatalist 
of me. I am beginning to think things happen as they are ordained 
from the beginning, this plainly indicating that there is to be 
no college, at least, this year, for me. My life is all mountaintop 
or canyon. I wish someone would lead me into a few days of ‘green 
pastures.’ Last night I went to sleep on mother’s arm, the moths 
all secured, love and college, certainties. This morning I wake to 
find all my hopes wrecked. I simply don’t dare let mother know 
that instead of helping me, she has mined my collection. Every- 
thing is gone — unless the love lasts. That actually seemed true. 
I believe I will go see.” 

The love remained. Indeed, in the overflow of the long- 
hardened, pent-up heart, the girl was almost suffocated with 
tempestuous caresses and generous offerings. Before the day was 
over, Elnora realized that she never had known her mother. The 
woman who now busily went through the cabin, her eyes bright, 
eager, alert, constantly planning, was a stranger. Her very face 
was different, while it did not seem possible that during one night 
the acid of twenty years could disappear from a voice and leave 
it sweet and pleasant. 

For the next few days Elnora worked at mounting the moths her 
mother had taken. She had to go to the Bird Woman and tell 
about the disaster, but Mrs. Comstock was allowed to think that 
Elnora delivered the moths when she made the trip. If she had 
told her what actually happened, the chances were that Mrs. 
Comstock again would have taken possession of the Limberlost, 
hunting there until she replaced all the moths that had been de- 
stroyed. But Elnora knew from experience what it meant to collect 
such a list in pairs. It would require steady work for at least two 


MOTHER LOVE IS BESTOWED l8l 

summers to replace the lost moths. When she left the Bird Woman 
she went to the president of the Onabasha schools and asked him 
to do all in his power to secure her a room in one of the ward 
buildings. 

The next morning the last moth was mounted, and the house- 
work finished. Elnora said to her mother, “If you don’t mind, I 
believe I will go into the woods pasture beside Sleepy Snake Creek 
and see if I can catch some dragonflies or moths.” 

“Wait until I get a knife and a pail and I will go along,” 

; answered Mrs. Comstock. “The dandelions are plenty tender for 
greens among the deep grasses, and I might just happen to see 
something myself. My eyes are pretty sharp.” 

“I wish you could realize how young you are,” said Elnora. “I 
know women in Onabasha who are ten years older than you, yet 
they look twenty years younger. So could you, if you would dress 
your hair becomingly, and wear appropriate clothes.” 

“I think my hair puts me in the old woman class permanently,” 
said Mrs. Comstock. 

“Well, it doesn’t !” cried Elnora. “There is a woman of twenty- 
eight who has hair as white as yours from sick headaches, but her 
face is young and beautiful. If your face would grow a little fuller 
and those lines would go away, you’d be lovely!” 

“You little pig!” laughed Mrs. Comstock. “Anyone would 
think you would be satisfied with having a splinter new mother, 
without setting up a kick on her looks, first thing. Greedy!” 

“That is a good word,” said Elnora. “I admit the charge. I 
am greedy over every wasted year. I want you young, lovely, 
suitably dressed and enjoying life like the other girls’ mothers.” 

Mrs. Comstock laughed softly as she pushed back her sun- 
bonnet so that shrubs and bushes beside the way could be scanned 
closely. Elnora walked ahead with a case over her shoulder, a net 
in her hand. Her head was bare, the rolling collar of her lavender 
gingham dress was cut in a V at the throat, the sleeves only 
reached the elbows. Every few steps she paused and examined the 
shrubbery carefully, while Mrs. Comstock was watching until her 
eyes ached, but there were no dandelions in the pail she carried. 

Early June was rioting in fresh grasses, bright flowers, bird 


182 a girl of the limberlost 

songs, and gay-winged creatures of air. Down the footpath the 
two went through the perfect morning, the love of God and all 
nature in their hearts. At last they reached the creek, following 
it toward the bridge. Here Mrs. Comstock found a large bed of 
tender dandelions and stopped to fill her pail. Then she sat on the 
bank, picking over the greens, while she listened to the creek softly 
singing its June song. 

Elnora remained within calling distance, and was having good 
success. At last she crossed the creek, following it up to a bridge. 
There she began a careful examination of the under sides of the 
sleepers and flooring for cocoons. Mrs. Comstock could see her 
and the creek for several rods above. The mother sat beating the 
long green leaves across her hand, carefully picking out the white 
buds, because Elnora liked them, when a splash up the creek 
attracted her attention. 

Around the bend came a man. He was bareheaded, dressed in a 
white sweater, and waders which reached his waist. He walked 
on the bank, only entering the water when forced. He had a queer 
basket strapped on his hip, and with a small rod he sent a long line 
spinning before him down the creek, deftly manipulating with it 
a little floating object. He was closer Elnora than her mother, but 
Mrs. Comstock thought possibly by hurrying she could remain un- 
seen and yet warn the girl that a stranger was coming. As she 
approached the bridge, she caught a sapling and leaned over the 
water to call Elnora. With her lips parted to speak she hesitated 
a second to watch a sort of insect that flashed past on the water, 
when a splash from the man attracted the girl. 

She was under the bridge, one knee planted in the embank- 
ment and a foot braced to support her. Her hair was tousled by 
wind and bushes, her face flushed, and she lifted her arms above 
her head, working to loosen a cocoon she had found. The call 
Mrs. Comstock had intended to utter never found voice, for as 
Elnora looked down at the sound, “Possibly I could get that for 
you,” suggested the man. 

Mrs. Comstock drew back. He was a young man with a won- 
derfully attractive face, although it was too white for robust 
health, broad shoulders, and slender, upright frame. 


MOTHER LOVE IS BESTOWED 183 

“Oh, I do hope you can!” answered Elnora. “It’s quite a find! 
It’s one of those lovely pale red cocoons described in the books. 
I suspect it comes from having been in a dark place and screened 
from the weather.” 

“Is that so?” cried the man. “Wait a minute. I’ve never seen 
one. I suppose it’s a Cecropia, from the location.” 

“Of course,” said Elnora. “It’s so cool here the moth hasn’t 
emerged. The cocoon is a big, baggy one, and it is as red as fox 
tail.” 

“What luck!” he cried. “Are you making a collection?” 

He reeled in his line, laid his rod across a bush and climbed 
the embankment to Elnora’s side, produced a knife and began 
the work of whittling a deep groove around the cocoon. 

“Yes. I paid my way through the high school in Onabasha with 
them. Now I am starting a collection which means college.” 

“Onabasha!” said the man. “That is where I am visiting. 
Possibly you know my people — Dr. Ammon’s? The doctor is my 
uncle. My home is in Chicago. I’ve been having typhoid fever, 
something fierce. In the hospital six weeks. Didn’t gain strength 
right, so Uncle Doc sent for me. I am to live out of doors all 
summer, and exercise until I get in condition again. Do you know 
my uncle?” 

“Yes. He is Aunt Margaret’s doctor, and he would be ours, 
only we are never ill.” 

“Well, you look it!” said the man, appraising Elnora at a 
glance. 

“Strangers always mention it,” sighed Elnora. “I wonder how 
it would seem to be a pale, languid lady and ride in a carriage.” 

“Ask me!” laughed the man. “It feels like the — dickens! I’m 
so proud of my feet. It’s quite a trick to stand on them now. 
I have to keep out of the water all I can and stop to baby every 
half-mile. But with interesting outdoor work I’ll be myself in 
a week.” 

“Do you call that work?” Elnora indicated the creek. 

“I do, indeed! Nearly three miles, banks too soft to brag on 
and never a strike. Wouldn’t you call that hard labor?” 

“Yes,” laughed Elnora. “Work at which you might kill your- 


.184 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

self and never get a fish. Did anyone tell you there were trout in 
Sleepy Snake Creek?” 

“Uncle said I could try.” 

“Oh, you can,” said Elnora. “You can try no end, but you’ll 
never get a trout. This is too far south and too warm for them. If 
you sit on the bank and use worms you might catch some perch 
or catfish.” 

“But that isn’t exercise.” 

“Well, if you only want exercise, go right on fishing. You will 
have a creel full of invisible results every night.” 

“I object,” said the man emphatically. He stopped work again 
and studied Elnora. Even the watching mother could not blame 
him. In the shade of the bridge Elnora’s bright head and her 
lavender dress made a picture worthy of much contemplation. 

“I object!” repeated the man. “When I work I want to see 
results. I’d rather exercise sawing wood, making one pile grow 
little and the other big, than to cast all day and catch nothing 
because there is not a fish to take. Work for work’s sake doesn’t 
appeal to me.” 

He digged the groove around the cocoon with skilled hand. 
“Now there is some fun in this!” he said. “It’s going to be a fair 
job to cut it out, but when it comes, it is not only beautiful, but 
worth a price; it will help you on your way. I think I’ll put up my 
rod and hunt moths. That would be something like ! Don’t you 
want help?” 

Elnora parried the question. “Have you ever hunted moths, 
Mr, Ammon?” 

“Enough to know the ropes in taking them and to distinguish 
the commonest ones. I go wild on Catocalae. There’s too many 
of them, all too much alike for Philip, but I know all these fellows. 
One flew into my room when I was about ten years old, and we 
thought it a miracle. None of us ever had seen one so we took it 
over to the museum to Dr. Dorsey. He said they were common 
enough, but we didn’t see them because they flew at night. He 
showed me the museum collection, and I was so interested I took 
mine back home and started to hunt them. Every year after that 
we went to our cottage a month earlier, so I could find them, and 


MOTHER LOVE IS BESTOWED 185 

all my family helped. I stuck to it until I went to college. Then, 
keeping the little moths out of the big ones was too much for 
the mater, so father advised that I donate mine to the museum. 
He bought a fine case for them with my name on it, which con- 
stitutes my sole contribution to science. I know enough to help you 
ah right.” 

“Aren’t you going north this year?” 

“All depends on how this fever leaves me. Uncle says the nights 
are too cold and the days too hot there for me. He thinks I had 
better stay in an even temperature until I am strong again. I am 
going to stick pretty close to him until I know I am. I wouldn’t 
admit it to anyone at home, but I was almost gone. J don’t believe 
anything can eat up nerve much faster than the burning of a 
| slow fever. No, thanks, I have enough. I stay with Uncle Doc, so 
if I feel it coming again he can do something quickly.” 

“I don’t blame you,” said Elnora. “I never have been sick, 
but it must be dreadful. I am afraid you are tiring yourself over 
that. Let me take the knife awhile.” 

“Oh, it isn’t so bad as that! I wouldn’t be wading creeks if it 
were. I only need a few more days to get steady on my feet again. 

I I’ll soon have this out.” 

“It is kind of you to get it,” said Elnora. “I should have had 
to peel it, which would spoil the cocoon for a specimen and ruin 
the moth.” 

“You haven’t said yet whether I may help you while I am 
here.” 

Elnora hesitated. 

“You better say ‘yes,’ ” h e persisted. “It would be a real kind- 
ness. It would keep me outdoors all day and give an incentive to 
work. I’m good at it. I’ll show you if I am not in a week or so. I 
can ‘sugar,’ manipulate lights, and mirrors, and all the expert 
methods. I’ll wager moths are numerous in the old swamp over 
there.” 

“They are,” said Elnora. “Most I have I took there. A few 
nights ago my mother caught a number, but we don’t dare go 
alone.” 

“All the more reason why you need me. Where do you live? 


i86 a girl of the limberlost 


I can’t get an answer from you, I’ll go tell your mother who I am 
and ask her if I may help you. I warn you, young lady, I have 
a very effective way with mothers. They almost never turn me 
down.” 

“Then it’s probable you will have a new experience when you 
meet mine,” said Elnora. “She never was known to do what any 
one expected she surely would.” 

The cocoon came loose. Philip Ammon stepped down the em- 
bankment turning to offer his hand to Elnora. She ran down as 
she would have done alone, and taking the cocoon turned it end 
for end to learn if the imago it contained were alive. Then 
Ammon took back the cocoon to smooth the edges. Mrs. Com- 
stock gave them one long look as they stood there, and returned 
to her dandelions. While she worked she paused occasionally, listen- 
ing intently. Presently they came down the creek, the man carrying 
the cocoon as if it were a jewel, while Elnora made her way along 
the bank, taking a lesson in casting. Her face was flushed with 
excitement, her eyes shining, the bushes taking liberties with her 
hair. For a picture of perfect loveliness she scarcely could have 
been surpassed, and the eyes of Philip Ammon seemed to be in 
working order. 

“Moth-er!” called Elnora. 

There was an undulant, caressing sweetness in the girl’s voice, 
as she sang out the call in perfect confidence that it would bring a 
loving answer, that struck deep in Mrs. Comstock’s heart. She 
never had heard that word so pronounced before and a lump 
arose in her throat. 

“Here !” she answered, still cleaning dandelions. 

“Mother, this is Mr. Philip Ammon, of Chicago,” said Elnora. 
“He has been ill and he is staying with Dr. Ammon in Onabasha. 
He came down the creek fishing and cut this cocoon from under 
the bridge for me. He feels that it would be better to hunt moths 
than to fish, until he is well. What do you think about it?” 

Philip Ammon extended his hand. “I am glad to know you,” 
he said. 

“You may take the hand-shaking for granted,” replied Mrs. 
Comstock. “Dandelions have a way of making the fingers sticky, 


MOTHER LOVE IS BESTOWED 187 

and I like to know a man before I take his hand, anyway. That 
introduction seems mighty comprehensive on your part, but it still 
leaves me unclassified. My name is Comstock.’ 5 

Philip Ammon bowed. 

“I am sorry to hear you have been sick,” said Mrs. Comstock. 
“But if people will live where they have such vile water as they do 
in Chicago, I don’t see what else they are to expect.” 

Philip studied her intently. 

“I am sure I didn’t have a fever on purpose,” he said. 

“You do seem a little wobbly on your legs,” she observed. 
“Maybe you had better sit and rest while I finish these greens. 
It’s late for the genuine article, but in the shade, among long 
grass they are still tender.” 

“May I have a leaf?” he asked, reaching for one as he sat on 
the bank, looking from the little creek at his feet, away through 
the dim cool spaces of the June forest on the opposite side. He 
drew a deep breath. “Glory, but this is good after almost two 
months inside hospital walls!” 

He stretched on the grass and lay gazing up at the leaves, oc- 
casionally asking the interpretation of a bird note or the origin of 
an unfamiliar forest voice. Elnora began helping with the 
dandelions. 

“Another, please,” said the young man, holding out his hand. 

“Do you suppose this is the kind of grass Nebuchadnezzar ate?” 
Elnora asked, giving the leaf. 

“He knew a good thing if it is.” 

“Oh, you should taste dandelions boiled with bacon and served 
with mother’s cornbread.” 

“Don’t! My appetite is twice my size now. While it is — how 
far is it to Onabasha, shortest cut?” 

“Three miles.” 

The man lay in perfect content, nibbling leaves. 

“This surely is a treat,” he said. “No wonder you find good 
hunting here. There seems to be foliage for almost every kind of 
caterpillar. But I suppose you have to exchange for northern 
species and Pacific Coast kinds?” 

“Yes. And everyone wants Regalis in trade. I never saw the 


l88 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 


like. They consider a Cecropia or a Polyphemus an insult, and a 
Luna is barely acceptable.” 

“What authorities have you?” 

Elnora began to name textbooks which started a discussion. 
Mrs. Comstock listened. She cleaned dandelions with greater delib- 
eration than they ever before were examined. In reality she was 
taking stock of the young man’s long, well-proportioned frame, 
his strong hands, his smooth, fine-textured skin, his thick shock of 
dark hair, and making mental notes of his simple manly speech 
and the fact that he evidently did know much about moths. It 
pleased her to think that if he had been a neighbor boy who had 
lain beside her every day of his life while she worked, he could 
have been no more at home. She liked the things he said, but she 
was proud that Elnora had a ready answer which always seemed 
appropriate. 

At last Mrs. Comstock finished the greens. 

“You are three miles from the city and less than a mile from 
where we live,” she said. “If you will tell me what you dare eat, 
I suspect you had best go home with us and rest until the cool 
of the day before you start back. Probably someone that you can 
ride in with will be passing before evening.” 

“That is mighty kind of you,” said Philip. “I think I will. It 
doesn’t matter so much what I eat, the point is that I must be 
moderate. I am hungry all the time.” 

“Then we will go,” said Mrs. Comstock, “and we will not 
allow you to make yourself sick with us.” 

Philip Ammon arose : picking up the pail of greens and his fish- 
ing rod, he stood waiting. Elnora led the way. Mrs. Comstock 
motioned Philip to follow and she walked in the rear. The girl 
carried the cocoon and the box of moths she had taken, searching 
every step for more. The young man frequently set down his load 
to join in the pursuit of a dragonfly or moth, while Mrs. Com- 
stock watched the proceedings with sharp eyes. Every time Philip 
picked up the pail of greens she struggled to suppress a smile. 

Elnora proceeded slowly, chattering about everything beside 
the trail. Philip was interested in all the objects she pointed out, 
noticing several things which escaped her. He carried the greens 


MOTHER LOVE IS BESTOWED 189 

as casually when they took a short cut down the roadway as on 
the trail. When Elnora turned toward th gate of her home Philip 
Ammon stopped, took a long look at the big hewed log cabin, the 
vines which clambered over it, the flower garden ablaze with beds 
of bright bloom interspersed with strawberries and tomatoes, the 
trees of the forest rising north and west like a green wall and 
exclaimed: “How beautiful!” 

Mrs. Comstock was pleased. “If you think that,” she said, “per- 
haps you will understand how, in all this present-day rush to be 
modern, I have preferred to remain as I began. My husband and 
I took up this land, and enough trees to build the cabin, stable, 
and outbuildings are nearly all we ever cut. Of course, if he had 
lived, I suppose we should have kept up with our neighbors. 
I hear considerable about the value of the land, the trees which 
are on it, and the oil which is supposed to be under it, but as yet 
I haven’t brought myself to change anything. So we stand for one 
of the few remaining homes of first settlers in this region. Come 
in. You are very welcome to what we have.” 

Mrs. Comstock stepped forward and took the lead. She had a 
bowl of soft water and a pair of boots to offer for the heavy waders, 
for outer comfort, a glass of cold buttermilk and a bench on which 
to rest, in the circular arbor until dinner was ready. Philip Am- 
mon splashed in the water. He followed to the stable and ex- 
changed boots there. He was ravenous for the buttermilk, and 
when he stretched on the bench in the arbor the flickering 
patches of sunlight so tantalized his tired eyes, while the bees 
made such splendid music, he was soon sound asleep. 

When Elnora and her mother came out with a table they 
stood a short time looking at him. It is probable Mrs. Comstock 
voiced a united thought when she said: “What a refined, de- 
cent-looking young man! How proud his mother must be of 
him! We must be careful what we let him eat.” 

Then they returned to the kitchen where Mrs. Comstock pro- 
ceeded to be careful. She broiled ham of her own sugar-curing 
creamed potatoes, served asparagus on toast, and made a de- 
licious strawberry shortcake. As she cooked dandelions with 
bacon, she feared to serve them to him, so she made an excuse 


igO A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

that it took too long to prepare them, blanched some and made 
a salad. When everything was ready she touched Philip’s sleeve. 

“Best have something to eat, lad, before you get too hungry,” 
she said. 

“Please hurry!” he begged laughingly as he held a plate 
toward her to be filled. “I thought I had enough self-restraint 
to start out alone, but I see I was mistaken. If you would allow 
me, just now, I am afraid I should start a fever again. I never 
did smell food so good as this. It’s mighty kind of you to take 
me in. I hope I will be man enough in a few days to do some- 
thing worth while in return.” 

Spots of sunshine fell on the white cloth and blue china, the 
bees and an occasional stray butterfly came searching for food. 
A rose-breasted grosbeak, released from a three hours’ siege of 
brooding, while his independent mate took her bath and recrea- 
tion, mounted the top branch of a maple in the west woods from 
which he serenaded the dinner party with a joyful chorus in 
celebration of his freedom. Philip’s eyes strayed to the beautiful 
cabin, to the mixture of flowers and vegetables stretching down 
to the road, and to the singing bird with his red-splotched breast 
of white and he said: “I can’t realize now that I ever lay in ice 
packs in a hospital. How I wish all the sick folks could come 
here to grow strong!” 

The grosbeak sang on, a big Turnus butterfly sailed through 
the arbor and poised over the table. Elnora held up a lump 
of sugar and the butterfly, clinging to her fingers, tasted daintily. 
With eager eyes and parted lips, the girl held steadily. When at 
last it wavered away, “That made a picture!” said Philip. “Ask 
me some other time how I lost my illusions concerning butter- 
flies. I always thought of them in connection with sunshine, 
flower pollen, and fruit nectar, until one sad day.” 

“I know!” laughed Elnora. “I’ve seen that, too, but it didn’t 
destroy any illusion for me. I think quite as much of the but- 
terflies as ever.” 

Then they talked of flowers, moths, dragonflies, Indian relics, 
and all the natural wonders the swamp afforded, straying from 
those subjects to books and school work. When they cleared the 


MOTHER LOVE IS BESTOWED igi 

table Philip assisted, carrying several tray loads to the kitchen. He 
and Elnora mounted specimens while Mrs. Comstock washed the 
dishes. Then she came out with a ruffle she was embroidering. 

“I wonder if I did not see a picture of you in Onabasha, last 
night , 55 Philip said to Elnora. “Aunt Anna took me to call on 
Miss Brownlee. She was showing me her crowd — of course, it 
was you! But it didn’t half do you justice, although it was the 
nearest human of any of them. Miss Brownlee is very fond of 
you. She said the finest things . 55 

Then they talked of Commencement, and at last Philip said 
he must go or his friends would become anxious about him. 

Mrs. Comstock brought him a blue bowl of creamy milk and 
a plate of bread. She stopped a passing team and secured a ride 
to the city for him, as his exercise of the morning had been too 
violent, and he was forced to admit he was tired. 

“May I come tomorrow afternoon and hunt moths awhile ? 55 
he asked Mrs. Comstock as he arose. “We will ‘sugar 5 a tree and 
put a light beside it, if I can get stuff to make the preparation. 
Possibly we can take some that way. I always enjoy moth hunt- 
ing, I’d like to help Miss Elnora, and it would be a charity to 
me. I’ve got to remain outdoors some place, and I’m quite sure 
I’d get well faster here than anywhere else. Please say I may 
come . 55 

“I have no objections, if Elnora really would like help,” said 
Mrs. Comstock. 

In her heart she wished he would not come. She wanted her 
newly found treasure all to herself, for a time, at least. But 
Elnora’s were eager, shining eyes. She thought it would be splen- 
did to have help, and great fun to try book methods for taking 
moths, so it was arranged. As Philip rode away, Mrs. Comstock’s 
eyes followed him. “What a nice young man!” she said. 

“He seems fine,” agreed Elnora. 

“He comes of a good family, too. I’ve often heard of his 
father. He is a great lawyer.” 

“I am glad he likes it here. I need help. Possibly ” 

“Possibly what?” 

“We can find many moths.” 


192 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

“What did he mean about the butterflies?” 

“That he always had connected them with sunshine, flowers, 
and fruits, and thought of them as the most exquisite of crea- 
tions; then one day he found some clustering thickly over car- 

• »> 

non. 

“Gome to think of it, I have seen butterflies ” 

“So had he,” laughed Elnora. “And that is what he meant.” 


CHAPTER XIV 


Wherein a New Position Is Tendered 
Elnora, and Philip Ammon Is Shown 
Limber lost Violets 


The next morning Mrs. Comstock called to Elnora, “The mail 
carrier stopped at our box.” 

Elnora ran down the walk and came back carrying an offi- 
cial letter. She tore it open and read : 

My dear Miss Comstock: 

At the weekly meeting of the Onabasha School Board last night, it 
was decided to add the position of Lecturer on Natural History to 
our corps of city teachers. It will be the duty of this person to spend 
two hours a week in each of the grade schools exhibiting and ex- 
plaining specimens of the most prominent objects in nature: ani- 
mals, birds, insects, flowers, vines, shrubs, bushes, and trees. These 
specimens and lectures should be appropriate to the seasons and the 
comprehension of the grades. This position was unanimously voted 
to you. I think you will find the work delightful and much easier 
than the routine grind of the other teachers. It is my advice that you 
accept and begin to prepare yourself at once. Your salary will be 
$75° a year, and you will be allowed $200 for expenses in procur- 
ing specimens and books. Let us know at once if you want the posi- 
tion, as it is going to be difficult to fill satisfactorily if you do not. 

Very truly yours, 

David Thompson, President, Onabasha Schools. 

“I hardly understand,” marveled Mrs. Comstock. 

“It is a new position. They never have had anything like it 


194 A girl of the limberlost 

before. I suspect it arose from the help I’ve been giving the 
grade teachers in their nature work. They are trying to teach the 
children something, and half the instructors don’t know a blue 
jay from a king-fisher, a beech leaf from an elm, or a wasp from 
a hornet.” 

“Well, do you?” anxiously inquired Mrs. Comstock. 

“Indeed, I do!” laughed Elnora, “and several other things 
beside. When Freckles bequeathed me the swamp, he gave me 
a bigger inheritance than he knew. While you have thought I 
was wandering aimlessly, I have been following a definite plan, 
studying hard, and storing up the stuff that will earn these 
seven hundred and fifty dollars. Mother dear, I am going to 
accept this, of course. The work will be a delight. I’d love it 
most of anything in teaching. You must help me. We must find 
nests, eggs, leaves, queer formations in plants and rare flowers. 
I must have flower boxes made for each of the rooms and filled 
with wild things. I should begin to gather specimens this very 
day.” 

Elnora’s face was flushed and her eyes bright. 

“Oh, what great work that will be!” she cried. “You must 
go with me so you can see the little faces when I tell them how 
the goldfinch builds its nest, and how the bees make honey.” 

So Elnora and her mother went into the woods behind the 
cabin to study nature. 

“I think,” said Elnora, “the idea is to begin with fall things 
in the fall, keeping to the seasons throughout the year.” 

“What are fall things?” inquired Mrs. Comstock. 

“Oh, fringed gentians, asters, ironwort, every fall flower, 
leaves from every tree and vine, what makes them change color, 
abandoned bird nests, winter quarters of caterpillars and insects, 
what becomes of the butterflies and grasshoppers — myriads of 
stuff. I shall have to be very wise to select the things it will be 
most beneficial for the children to learn.” 

“Can I really help you?” Mrs. Comstock’s strong face was 
pathetic. 

“Indeed, yes!” cried Elnora. “I never can get through it 


A NEW POSITION IS TENDERED 195 

alone. There will be an immense amount of work connected 
with securing and preparing specimens.” 

Mrs. Comstock lifted her head proudly and began doing 
business at once. Her sharp eyes ranged from earth to heaven. 
She investigated everything, asking innumerable questions. At 
noon Mrs. Comstock took the specimens they had collected, and 
went to prepare dinner, while Elnora followed the woods down 
to the Sintons’ to show her letter. 

She had to explain what became of her moths, and why col- 
lege would have to be abandoned for that year, but Margaret 
and Wesley vowed not to tell. Wesley waved the letter excitedly, 
explaining it to Margaret as if it were a personal possession. 
Margaret was deeply impressed, while Billy volunteered first 
aid in gathering material. 

“Now anything you want in the ground, Snap can dig it out,” 
he said. “Uncle Wesley and I found a hole three times as big 
as Snap, that he dug at the roots of a tree.” 

“We will train him to hunt pupae cases,” said Elnora. 

“Are you going to the woods this afternoon?” asked Billy. 

“Yes,” answered Elnora. “Dr. Ammon’s nephew from Chi- 
cago is visiting in Onabasha. He is going to show me how men 
put some sort of compound on a tree, hang a light beside it, 
and take moths that way. It will be interesting to watch and 
learn.” 

“May I come?” asked Billy. 

“Of course you may come!” answered Elnora. 

“Is this nephew of Dr. Ammon a young man?” inquired 
Margaret. 

“About twenty-six, I should think,” said Elnora. “He said he 
had been out of college and at work in his father’s law office 
three years.” 

“Does he seem nice?” asked Margaret, and Wesley smiled. 

“Finest kind of a person,” said Elnora. “He can teach me so 
much. It is very interesting to hear him talk. He knows consid- 
erable about moths that will be a help to me. He had a fever and 
he has to stay outdoors until he grows strong again.” 


196 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

“Billy, I guess you better help me this afternoon, 5 5 said Mar- 
garet. “Maybe Elnora had rather not bother with you.” 

“There is no reason on earth why Billy should not come!” 
cried Elnora, and Wesley smiled again. 

“I must hurry home or I won’t be ready,” she added. 

Hastening down the road she entered the cabin, her face 
glowing. 

“I thought you never would come,” said Mrs. Comstock. “If 
you don’t hurry Mr. Ammon will be here before you are 
dressed.” 

“I forgot about him until just now,” said Elnora. “I am not 
going to dress. He’s not coming to visit. We are only going to the 
woods for more specimens. I can’t wear anything that requires 
care. The limbs take the most dreadful liberties with hair and 
clothing.” 

Mrs. Comstock opened her lips, looked at Elnora and closed 
them. In her heart she was pleased that the girl was so inter- 
ested in her work that she had forgotten Philip Ammon’s com- 
ing. But it did seem to her that such a pleasant young man 
should have been greeted by a girl in a fresh dress. “If she isn’t 
disposed to primp at the coming of a man, heaven forbid that I 
should be the one to start her,” thought Mrs. Comstock. 

Philip came whistling down the walk between the cinnamon 
pinks, pansies, and strawberries. He carried several packages, 
while his face flushed with more color than on the previous day. 

“Only see what has happened to me!” cried Elnora, offering 
her letter. 

“I’ll wager I know!” answered Philip. “Isn’t it great! Every- 
one in Onabasha is talking about it. At last there is something new 
under the sun. All of them are pleased. They think you’ll make 
a big success. This will give an incentive to work. In a few days 
more I’ll be myself again, and we’ll overturn the fields and 
woods around here.” 

He went on to congratulate Mrs. Comstock. 

“Aren’t you proud of her, though?” he asked. “You should 
hear what folks are saying ! They say she created the necessity for 
the position, and everyone seems to feel that it is a necessity. Now, 


A NEW POSITION IS TENDERED 197 

if she succeeds, and she will, all of the other city schools will have 
such departments, and first thing you know she will have made 
the whole world a little better. Let me rest a few seconds ; my feet 
are acting up again. Then we will cook the moth compound and 
put it to cool.” 

He laughed as he sat breathing shortly. 

“It doesn’t seem possible that a fellow could lose his strength 
like this. My knees are actually trembling, but I’ll be all right in 
a minute. Uncle Doc said I could come. I told him how you 
took care of me, and he said I would be safe here.” 

Then he began unwrapping packages and explaining to Mrs. 
Comstock how to cook the compound to attract the moths. He 
followed her into the kitchen, kindled the fire, and stirred the 
preparation as he talked. While the mixture cooled, he and El- 
nora walked through the vegetable garden behind the cabin and 
strayed from there into the woods. 

“What about college?” he asked. “Miss Brownlee said you 
were going.” 

“I had hoped to,” replied Elnora, “but I had a streak of dread- 
ful luck, so I’ll have to wait until next year. If you won’t speak of 
it, I’ll tell you.” 

Philip promised, so Elnora recited the history of the Yellow 
Emperor. She was so interested in doing the Emperor justice she 
did not notice how many personalities went into the story. A few 
pertinent questions told him the remainder. He looked at the 
girl in wonder. In face and form she was as lovely as anyone of 
her age and type he ever had seen. Her school work far surpassed 
that of most girls of her age he knew. She differed in other ways. 
This vast store of learning she had gathered from field and forest 
was a wealth of attraction no other girl possessed. Her frank, 
matter-of-fact manner was an inheritance from her mother, but 
there was something more. Once, as they talked he thought “sym- 
pathy” was the word to describe it and again “comprehension.” 
She seemed to possess a large sense of brotherhood for all human 
and animate creatures. She spoke to him as if she had known him 
all her life. She talked to the grosbeak in exactly the same man- 
ner, as she laid strawberries and potato bugs on the fence for his 


198 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

family. She did not swerve an inch from her way when a snake 
slid past her, while the squirrels came down from the trees and 
took com frop her fingers. She might as well have been a boy, so 
lacking was she in any touch of feminine coquetry toward him. 
He studied her wonderingly. As they went along the path they 
reached a large slime-covered pool surrounded by decaying 
stumps and logs thickly covered with water hyacinths and blue 
flags. Philip stopped. 

“Is that the place?” he asked. 

Elnora assented. “The doctor told you?” 

“Yes. It was tragic. Is that pool really bottomless?” 

“So far as we ever have been able to discover.” 

Philip stood looking at the water, while the long, sweet grasses, 
thickly sprinkled with blue flag bloom, over which wild bees 
clambered, swayed around his feet. Then he turned to the girl. 
She had worked hard. The same lavender dress she had worn 
the previous day clung to her in limp condition. But she was as 
evenly colored and of as fine grain as a wild rose petal, her hair 
was really brown, but never was such hair touched with a redder 
glory, while her heavy arching brows added a look of strength to 
her big gray-blue eyes. 

“And you were bom here?” 

He had not intended to voice that thought. 

“Yes,” she said, looking into his eyes. “Just in time to prevent 
my mother from saving the life of my father. She came near never 
forgiving me.” 

“Ah, cruel!” cried Philip. 

“I find much in life that is cruel, from our standpoints,” said 
Elnora. “It takes the large wisdom of the Unfathomable, the 
philosophy of the Almighty, to endure some of it. But there is 
always right somewhere, and at last it seems to come.” 

“Will it come to you?” asked Philip, who found himself deeply 
affected. 

“It has come,” said the girl serenely. “It came a week ago. It 
came in fullest measure when my mother ceased to regret that I 
had been bom. Now, work that I love has come — that should 


A NEW POSITION IS TENDERED 199 

constitute happiness. A little farther along is mv violet bed. I want 
you to see it.” * * 

As Philip Ammon followed he definitely settled ^pon the name 
of the unusual feature of Elnora’s face. It should be called “ex- 
perience.” She had known bitter experiences early in life. Suffer- 
ing had been her familiar more than joy. He watched her 
earnestly, his heart deeply moved. She led him into a swampy 
half-open space in the woods, stopped and stepped aside. He 
uttered a cry of surprised delight. 

A few decaying logs were scattered around, the grass grew in 
tufts long and fine. Blue flags waved, clusters of cowslips nodded 
gold heads, but the whole earth was purple with a thick blanket 
of violets nodding from stems a foot in length. Elnora knelt and 
slipping her fingers between the leaves and grasses to the roots, 
gathered a few violets and gave them to Philip. 

“Can your city greenhouses surpass them?” she asked. 

He sat on a log to examine the blooms. 

“They are superb!” he said. “I never saw such length of stem 
or such rank leaves, while the flowers are the deepest blue, the 
truest violet I ever saw growing wild. They are colored exactly 
like the eyes of the girl I am going to marry.” 

Elnora handed him several others to add to those he held. “She 
must have wonderful eyes,” she commented. 

“No other blue eyes are quite so beautiful,” he said. “In fact, 
she is altogether lovely.” 

“Is it customary for a man to think the girl he is going to 
marry lovely? I wonder if I should find her so.” 

“You would,” said Philip. “No one ever fails to. She is tall as 
you, very slender, but perfectly rounded; you know about her 
eyes ; her hair is black and wavy — while her complexion is clear 
and flushed with red.” 

“Why, she must be the most beautiful girl in the whole world !” 
she cried. 

“No, indeed!” he said. “She is not a particle better looking in 
her way than you are in yours. She is a type of dark beauty, but 
you are equally as perfect. She is unusual in her combination of 


200 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

black hair and violet eyes, although everyone thinks them black 
at a little distance. You are quite as unusual with your fair face, 
black brows, and brown hair; indeed, I know many people who 
would prefer your bright head to her dark one. It’s all a question 
of taste — and being engaged to the girl,” he added. 

“That would be likely to prejudice one,” laughed Elnora. 

“Edith has a birthday soon ; if these last will you let me have a 
box of them to send her?” 

“I will help gather and pack them for you, so they will carry 
nicely. Does she hunt moths with you?” 

Back went Philip Ammon’s head in a gale of laughter. 

“No!” he cried. “She says they are ‘creepy.’ She would go into 
a spasm if she were compelled to touch those caterpillars I saw 
you handling yesterday.” 

“Why would she?” marveled Elnora. “Haven’t you told her 
that they are perfectly clean, helpless, and harmless as so much 
animate velvet?” 

“No, I have not told her. She wouldn’t care enough about 
caterpillars to listen.” 

“In what is she interested?” 

“What interests Edith Carr? Let me think ! First, I believe she 
takes pride in being a little handsomer and better dressed than 
any girl of her set. She is interested in having a beautiful home, 
fine appointments, in being petted, praised, and the acknowledged 
leader of society. She likes to find new things which amuse her, 
and to always and in all circumstances have her own way about 
everything.” 

“Good gracious!” cried Elnora, staring at him. “But what 
does she do? How does she spend her time?” 

“Spend her time!” repeated Philip. “Well, she would call that 
a joke. Her days are never long enough. There is endless shop- 
ping, to find the pretty things; regular visits to the dressmakers, 
calls, parties, theaters, entertainments. She is always rushed. I 
never am able to be with her half as much as I would like.” 

“But I mean work,” persisted Elnora. “In what is she inter- 
ested that is useful to the world?” 

“Me!” cried Philip promptly. 


A NEW POSITION IS TENDERED 201 

“I can understand that,” laughed Elnora. “What I can’t un- 
derstand is how you can be in ” She stopped in confusion, but 

she saw that he had finished the sentence as she had intended. “I 
beg your pardon!” she cried. “I didn’t intend to say that. But I 
cannot understand these people I hear about who live only for 
their own amusement. Perhaps it is very great; I’ll never have a 
chance to know. To me, it seems the only pleasure in this world 
worth having is the joy we derive from living for those we love, 
and those we can help. I hope you are not angry with me.” 

Philip sat silently looking far away, with deep thought in his 
eyes. 

“You are angry,” faltered Elnora. 

His look came back to her as she knelt before him among the 
flowers and he gazed at her steadily. 

“No doubt I should be,” he said, “but the fact is I am not. I 
cannot understand a life purely for personal pleasure myself. But 
she is only a girl, and this is her playtime. When she is a woman 
in her own home, then she will be different, will she not?” 

Elnora never resembled her mother so closely as when she an- 
swered that question. 

“I would have to be well acquainted with her to know, but I 
should hope so. To make a real home for a tired business man is 
a very different kind of work from that required to be a leader 
of society. It demands different talent and education. Of course, 
she means to change, or she would not have promised to make 
a home for you. I suspect our dope is cool now, let’s go try for 
some butterflies.” 

As they went along the path together Elnora talked of many 
things but Philip answered absently. Evidently he was thinking of 
something else. But the moth bait recalled him and he was ready 
for work as they made their way back to the woods. He wanted 
to try the Limberlost but Elnora was firm about remaining on 
home ground. She did not tell him that lights hung in the swamp 
would be a signal to call up a band of men whose presence she 
dreaded. So they started, Ammon carrying the dope, Elnora the 
net, Billy and Mrs. Comstock following with cyanide boxes and 
lanterns. 


202 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

First they tried for butterflies and captured several fine ones 
without trouble. They also called swarms of ants, bees, beetles, 
and flies. When it grew dusk, Mrs. Comstock and Philip went to 
prepare supper. Elnora and Billy remained until the butterflies 
disappeared. Then they lighted the lanterns, repainted the trees 
and followed the home trail. 

“Do you ’spec you’ll get just a lot of moths?” asked Billy, as he 
walked beside Elnora. 

“I am sure I hardly know,” said the girl. “This is a new way 
for me. Perhaps they will come to the lights, but few moths eat; 
and I have some doubt about those which the lights attract 
settling on the right trees. Maybe the smell of that dope will 
draw them. Between us, Billy, I think I like my old way best. If I 
can find a hidden moth, slip up and catch it unawares, or take it 
in full flight, it’s my captive, and I can keep it until it dies natu- 
rally. But this way you seem to get it under false pretences, it has 
no chance, and it will probably ruin its wings struggling for free- 
dom before morning.” 

“Well, any moth ought to be proud to be taken anyway, by 
you,” said Billy. “Just look what you do! You can make every- 
body love them. People even quit hating caterpillars when they 
see you handle them and hear you tell all about them. You must 
have some to show people how they are. It’s not like killing things 
to see if you can, or because you want to eat them, the way most 
men kill birds. I think it is right for you to take enough for col- 
lections, to show city people, and to illustrate the Bird Woman’s 
books. You go on and take them! The moths don’t care. They’re 
glad to have you. They like it!” 

“Billy, I see your future,” said Elnora. “We will educate you 
and send you up to Mr. Ammon to make a great lawyer. You’d 
beat the world as a special pleader. You actually make me feel 
that I am doing the moths a kindness to take them.” 

“And so you are!” cried Billy. “Why, just from what you have 
taught them Uncle Wesley and Aunt Margaret never think of 
killing a caterpillar until they look whether it’s the beautiful June 
moth kind, or the horrid tent ones. That’s what you can do. You 
go straight ahead !” 


A NEW POSITION IS TENDERED 203 

“Billy, you are a jewel!” cried Elnora, throwing her arm across 
his shoulders as they came down the path. 

“My, I was scared!” said Billy with a deep breath. 

“Scared?” questioned Elnora. 

“Yes sir-ee! Aunt Margaret scared me. May I ask you a ques- 
tion?” 

“Of course you may!” 

“Is that man going to be your beau?” 

“Billy ! No ! What made you think such a thing?” 

“Aunt Margaret said likely he would fall in love with you, and 
you wouldn’t want me around any more. Oh, but I was scared ! It 
isn’t so, is it?” 

“Indeed, no!” 

“I am your beau, ain’t I?” 

“Surely you are!” said Elnora, tightening her arm. 

“I do hope Aunt Kate has ginger cookies,” said Billy with, a 
little skip of delight. 


CHAPTER XV 


Wherein Mrs. Comstock Faces the 
Almighty, and Philip Ammon 
Writes a Letter 


Mrs. Comstock and Elnora were finishing breakfast the fol- 
lowing morning when they heard a cheery whistle down the 
road. Elnora with surprised eyes looked at her mother. 

“Could that be Mr. Ammon?” she questioned. 

“I did not expect him so soon,” commented Mrs. Comstock. 

It was sunrise, but the musician was Philip Ammon. He ap- 
peared stronger than on yesterday. 

“I hope I am not too early,” he said. “I am consumed with 
anxiety to learn if we have made a catch. If we have, we should 
beat the birds to it. I promised Uncle Doc to put on my waders 
and keep dry for a few days yet, when I go to the woods. Let’s 
hurry ! I am afraid of crows. There might be a rare moth.” 

The sun was topping the Limberlost when they started. As they 
neared the place Philip stopped. 

“Now we must use great caution,” he said. “The lights and 
the odors always attract numbers that don’t settle on the baited 
trees. Every bush, shrub, and limb may hide a specimen we 
want.” 

So they approached with much care. 

“There is something, anyway!” cried Philip. 

“There are moths! I can see them!” exulted Elnora. 

“Those you see are fast enough. It’s the ones for which you 
must search that will escape. The grasses are dripping, and I 


FACES THE ALMIGHTY 


205 

have boots, so you look beside the path while I take the outside,” 
suggested Ammon. 

Mrs. Comstock wanted to hunt moths, but she was timid 
about making a wrong movement, so she wisely sat dh a log and 
watched Philip and Elnora to learn how they proceeded. Back in 
the deep woods a hermit thrush was singing his chant to the 
rising sun. Orioles were sowing the pure, sweet air with notes of 
gold, poured out while on the wing. The robins were only chirping 
now, for their morning songs had awakened all the other birds an 
hour ago. Scolding red-wings tilted on half the bushes. Excepting 
late species of haws, tree bloom was almost gone, but wild flow- 
ers made the path border and all the wood floor a riot of color. 
Elnora, bom among such scenes, worked eagerly, but to the city 
man, recently from a hospital, they seemed too good to miss. He 
frequently stooped to examine a flower face, paused to listen in- 
tently to the thrush or lifted his head to see the gold flash which 
accompanied the oriole’s trailing notes. So Elnora uttered the first 
cry, as she softly lifted branches and peered among the grasses. 

“My find!” she called. “Bring the box, mother!” 

Philip came hurrying also. When they reached her she stood 
on the path holding a pair of moths. Her eyes were wide with 
excitement, her cheeks pink, her red lips parted, and on the hand 
she held out to them clung a pair of delicate blue-green moths, 
with white bodies, and touches of lavender and straw color. All 
around her lay flower-brocaded grasses, behind the deep green 
background of the forest, while the sun slowly sifted gold from 
heaven to burnish her hair. Mrs. Comstock heard a sharp breath 
behind her. 

“Oh, what a picture!” exulted Philip at her shoulder. “She is 
absolutely and altogether lovely ! I’d give a small fortune for that 
faithfully set on canvas!” 

He picked the box from Mrs. Comstock’s fingers and slowly 
advanced with it. Elnora held down her hand and transferred 
the moths. Philip closed the box carefully, but the watching 
mother saw that his eyes were following the girl’s face. He was 
not making the slightest attempt to conceal his admiration. 

“I wonder if a woman ever did anything lovelier than to find 


206 a girl of the limberlost 


a pair of Luna moths on a forest path, early on a perfect June 
morning,” he said to Mrs. Comstock, when he returned the box. 

She glanced at Elnora, who was intently searching the bushes. 

“Look here, young man,” said Mrs. Comstock. “You seem 
to find that girl of mine about right.” 

“I could suggest no improvement,” said Philip. “I never saw 
a more attractive girl anywhere. She seems absolutely perfect to 
me.” 

“Then suppose you don’t start any scheme calculated to spoil 
her!” proposed Mrs. Comstock dryly. “I don’t think you can, or 
that any man could, but I’m not taking any risks. You asked to 
come here to help in this work. We are both glad to have you, if 
you confine yourself to work; but it’s the least you can do to leave 
us as you find us.” 

“I beg your pardon !” said Philip. “I intended no offence. I ad- 
mire her as I admire any perfect creation.” 

“And nothing in all this world spoils the average girl so quickly 
and so surely,” said Mrs. Comstock. She raised her voice. “El- 
nora, fasten up that tag of hair over your left ear. These bushes 
muss you so you remind me of a sheep poking its nose through a 
hedge fence.” 

Mrs. Comstock started down the path toward the log again, 
when she reached it she called sharply: “Elnora, come here! I 
believe I have found something myself.” 

The “something” was a Citheronia Regalis which had emerged 
from its case on the soft earth under the log. It climbed up the 
wood, its stout legs dragging a big pursy body, while it wildly 
flapped tiny wings the size of a man’s thumbnail. Elnora gave 
one look and a cry which brought Philip. 

“That’s the rarest moth in America!” he announced. “Mrs. 
Comstock, you’ve gone up head. You can put that in a box with 
a screen cover tonight, and attract half a dozen, possibly.” 

“Is it rare, Elnora?” inquired Mrs. Comstock, as if no one else 
knew. 

“It surely is,” answered Elnora. “If we can find it a mate to- 
night, it will lay from two hundred and fifty to three hundred 
eggs tomorrow. With any luck at all I can raise two hundred 


FACES THE ALMIGHTY 207 

caterpillars from them. I did once before. And they are worth 
a dollar apiece.” 

“Was the one I killed like that?” 

“No. That was a different moth, but its life processes were the 
same as this. The Bird Woman calls this the King of the Poets.” 

“Why does she?” 

“Because it is named for Citheron who was a poet, and regalis 
refers to a king. You mustn’t touch it or you may stunt wing de- 
velopment. You watch and don’t let that moth out of sight, or 
anything touch it. When the wings are expanded and hardened 
we will put it in a box.” 

“I am afraid it will race itself to death,” objected Mrs. Com- 
stock. 

“That’s a part of the game,” said Philip. “It is starting circu- 
lation now. When the right moment comes, it will stop and ex- 
pand its wings. If you watch closely you can see them expand.” 

Presently the moth found a rough projection of bark and clung 
with its feet, back down, its wings hanging. The body was an un- 
usual orange red, the tiny wings were gray, striped with the red 
and splotched here and there with markings of canary yellow. 
Mrs. Comstock watched breathlessly. Presently she slipped from 
the log and knelt to secure a better view. 

“Are its wings developing?” called Elnora. 

“They are growing larger and the markings coming stronger 
every minute.” 

“Let’s watch, too,” said Elnora to Philip. 

They came and looked over Mrs. Comstock’s shoulder. Lower 
drooped the gay wings, wider they spread, brighter grew the 
markings as if laid off in geometrical patterns. They could hear 
Mrs. Comstock’s tense breath and see her absorbed expression. 

“Young people,” she said solemnly, “if your studying science 
and the elements has ever led you to feel that things just hap- 
pen, kind of evolve by chance, as it were, this sight will be good 
for you. Maybe earth and air accumulate, but it takes the wis- 
dom of the Almighty God to devise the wing of a moth. If there 
ever was a miracle, this whole process is one. Now, as I under- 
stand it, this creature is going to keep on spreading those wings, 


208 a girl of the limberlost 


until they grow to size and harden to strength sufficient to bear 
its body. Then it flies away, mates with its kind, lays its eggs on 
the leaves of a certain tree, and the eggs hatch tiny caterpillars 
which eat just that kind of leaves, and the worms grow and grow, 
and take on different forms and colors until at last they are big 
caterpillars six inches long, with large horns. Then they burrow 
into the earth, build a water-proof house around themselves from 
material which is inside them, and lie through rain and freezing 
cold for months. A year from egg laying they come out like this, 
and begin the process all over again. They don’t eat, they don’t 
see distinctly, they live but a few days, and fly only at night; 
then they drop off easy, but the process goes on.” 

A shivering movement went over the moth. The wings drooped 
and spread wider. Mrs. Comstock sank into soft awed tones. 

“There never was a moment in my life,” she said, “when I felt 
so in the Presence, as I do now. I feel as if the Almighty were 
so real, and so near, that I could reach out and touch Him, as I 
could this wonderful work of His, if I dared. I feel like saying to 
Him: ‘To the extent of my brain power I realize Your presence, 
and all it is in me to comprehend of Your power. Help me to 
learn, even this late, the lessons of Your wonderful creations. 
Help me to unshackle and expand my soul to the fullest realiza- 
tion of Your wonders. Almighty God, make me bigger, make me 
broader!’ ” 

The moth climbed to the end of the projection, up it a little 
way, then suddenly reversed its wings, turned the hidden sides out 
and dropped them beside its abdomen, like a large fly. The upper 
side of the wings, thus exposed, was far richer color, more ex- 
quisite texture than the under, and they slowly half lifted and 
drooped again. Mrs. Comstock turned her face to Philip. 

“Am I an old fool, or do you feel it, too?” she half whispered. 

“You are wiser than you ever have been before,” answered 
he. “I feel it, also.” 

“And I,” breathed Elnora. 

The moth spread its wings, shivered them tremulously, open- 
ing and closing them rapidly. Philip handed the box to Elnora. 

She shook her head. 


FACES THE ALMIGHTY 


209 


“I can’t take that one,” she said. “Give her freedom.” 

“But, Elnora,” protested Mrs. Comstock, “I don’t want to let 
her go. She’s mine. She’s the first one I ever found this way. Can’t 
you put her in a big box, and let her live without hurting her? I 
can’t bear to let her go. I want to learn all about her.” 

“Then watch while we gather these on the trees,” said Elnora. 
“We will take her home until night and then decide what to do. 
She won’t fly for a long time yet.” 

Mrs. Comstock settled on the ground, gazing at the moth. 
Elnora and Philip went to the baited trees, placing several large 
moths and a number of smaller ones in the cyanide jar, and 
searching the bushes beyond where they found several paired 
specimens of differing families. When they returned Elnora 
showed her mother how to hold her hand before the moth so 
that it would climb upon her fingers. Then they started back to 
the cabin, Elnora and Philip leading the way; Mrs. Comstock 
followed slowly, stepping with great care lest she stumble and 
injure the moth. Her face wore a look of comprehension, in her 
eyes was an exalted light. On she came to the blue-bordered pool 
lying beside her path. 

A turtle scrambled from a log and splashed into the water, 
while a red-wing shouted, “O-ka-lee!” to her. Mrs. Comstock 
paused and looked intently at the slime-covered quagmire, framed 
in a flower riot and homed over by sweet-voiced birds. Then she 
gazed at the thing of incomparable beauty clinging to her fingers 
and said softly: “If you had known about wonders like these in 
the days of your youth, Robert Comstock, could you ever have 
done what you did?” 

Elnora missed her mother, and turning to look for her, saw 
her standing beside the pool. Would the old fascination return? 
A panic of fear seized the girl. She went back swiftly. 

“Are you afraid she is going?” Elnora asked. “If you are, cup 
your other hand over her for shelter. Carrying her through this 
air and in the hot sunshine will dry her wings and make them 
ready for flight very quickly. You can’t trust her in such air and 
light as you can in the cool dark woods.” 

While she talked she took hold of her mother’s sleeve, anxiously 


210 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

smiling a pitiful little smile that Mrs. Comstock understood. 
Philip set his load at the back door, returning to hold open the 
garden gate for Elnora and Mrs. Comstock. He reached it in 
time to see them standing together beside the pool. The mother 
bent swiftly and kissed the girl on the lips. Philip turned and was 
busily hunting moths on the raspberry bushes when they reached 
the gate. And so excellent are the rewards of attending your own 
business, that he found a Promethea on a lilac in a corner; a 
moth of such rare wine-colored, velvety shades that it almost 
sent Mrs. Comstock to her knees again. But this one was fully 
developed, able to fly, and had to be taken into the cabin hur- 
riedly. Mrs. Comstock stood in the middle of the room holding 
up her Regalis. 

“Now what must I do?” she asked. 

Elnora glanced at Philip Ammon. Their eyes met and both 
of them smiled ; he with amusement at the tall, spare figure, with 
dark eyes and white crown, asking the childish question so 
confidingly ; and Elnora with pride. She was beginning to appre- 
ciate the character of her mother. 

“How would you like to sit and see her finish development? 
I’ll get dinner,” proposed the girl. 

After they had dined, Philip and Elnora carried the dishes to 
the kitchen, brought out boxes, sheets of cork, pins, ink, paper 
slips and everything necessary for mounting and classifying the 
moths they had taken. When the housework was finished Mrs. 
Comstock with her ruffle sat near, watching and listening. She 
remembered all they said that she understood, and when un- 
certain she asked questions. Occasionally she laid down her work 
to straighten some flower which needed attention or to search the 
garden for a bug for the grosbeak. In one of these absences Elnora 
said to Philip : “These replace quite a number of the moths I lost 
for the man of India. With a week of such luck, I could almost 
begin to talk college again.” 

“There is no reason why you should not have the week and the 
luck,” said he. “I have taken moths until the middle of August, 
though I suspect one is more likely to find late ones in the north 
where it is colder than here. The next week is hay-time, but we 


FACES THE ALMIGHTY 


2 1 1 


can count on a few double-brooders and strays, and by working 
the exchange method for all it is worth, I think we can complete 
the collection again.” 

“You almost make me hope,” said Elnora, “but I must not 
allow myself. I don’t truly think I can replace all I lost, not 
even with your help. If I could, I scarcely see my way clear to 
leave mother this winter. I have found her so recently, and she 
is so precious, I can’t risk losing her again. I am going to take 
the nature position in the Onabasha schools, and I shall be most 
happy doing the work. Only, these are a temptation.” 

“I wish you might go to college this fall with the other girls,” 
said Philip. “I feel that if you don’t you never will. Isn’t there 
some way?” 

“I can’t see it if there is, and I really don’t want to leave 
mother.” 

“Well, mother is mighty glad to hear it,” said Mrs. Comstock, 
entering the arbor. 

Philip noticed that her face was pale, her lips quivering, her 
voice cold. 

“I was telling your daughter that she should go to college this 
winter,” he explained, “but she says she doesn’t want to leave 
you.” 

“If she wants to go, I wish she could,” said Mrs. Comstock, 
a look of relief spreading over her face. 

“Oh, all girls want to go to college,” said Philip. “It’s the only 
proper place to learn bridge and embroidery; not to mention 
midnight lunches of mixed pickles and fruit cake, and all the de- 
lights of the sororities.” 

“I have thought for years of going to college,” said Elnora, 
“but I never thought of any of those things.” 

“That is because your education in fudge and bridge has been 
sadly neglected,” said Philip. “You should hear my sister Polly! 
This was her final year! Lunches and sororities were all I heard 
her mention, until Tom Levering came on deck; now he is the 
leading subject. I can’t see from her daily conversation that she 
knows half as much really worth knowing as you do, but she’s 
ahead of you miles on fun.” 


212 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

“Oh, we had some good times in the high school,” said Elnora. 
“Life hasn’t been all work and study. Is Edith Carr a college 

g irl? ” 

“No. She is the very selectest kind of a private boarding-school 
girl.” 

“Who is she?” asked Mrs. Comstock. 

Philip opened his lips. 

“She is a girl in Chicago, that Mr. Ammon knows very well,” 
said Elnora. “She is beautiful and rich, and a friend of his sister’s. 
Or, didn’t you say that?” 

“I don’t remember, but she is,” said Philip. “This moth needs 
an alcohol bath to remove the dope.” 

“Won’t the down come, too?” asked Elnora anxiously. 

“No. You watch and you will see it come out, as Polly would 
say, ‘a perfectly good’ moth.” 

“Is your sister younger than you?” inquired Elnora. 

“Yes,” said Philip, “but she is three years older than you. She 
is the dearest sister in all the world. I’d love to see her now.” 

“Why don’t you send for her,” suggested Elnora. “Perhaps 
she’d like to help us catch moths.” 

“Yes, I think Polly in a Virot hat, Picot embroidered frock 
and three-inch heels would take more moths than anyone who 
ever tried the Limberlost,” laughed Philip. 

“Well, you find many of them, and you are her brother.” 

“Yes, but that is different. Father was reared in Onabasha, 
and he loved the country. He trained me his way and mother took 
charge of Polly. I don’t quite understand it. Mother is a great 
home body herself, but she did succeed in making Polly strictly 
ornamental.” 

“Does Tom Levering need a ‘strictly ornamental’ girl?” 

“You are too matter of fact! Too ‘strictly’ material. He needs 
a darling girl who will love him plenty, and Polly is that.” 

“Well, then, does the Limberlost need a ‘strictly ornamental* 
girl?” 

“No!” cried Philip. “You are ornament enough for the Lim- 
berlost. I have changed my mind. I don’t want Polly here. She 
would not enjoy catching moths, or anything we do.” 


FACES THE ALMIGHTY 213 

“She might, 55 persisted Elnora. “You are her brother, and 
surely you care for these things.” 

“The argument does not hold,” said Philip. “Polly and I do 
not like the same things when we are at home, but we are very 
fond of each other. The member of my family who would go 
crazy about this is my father. I wish he could come, if only for 
a week. I’d send for him, but he is tied up in preparing some 
papers for a great corporation case this summer. He likes the 
country. It was his vote that brought me here.” 

Philip leaned back against the arbor, watching the grosbeak as 
it hunted food between a tomato vine and a day lily. Elnora set 
him to making labels, and when he finished them he asked per- 
mission to write a letter. He took no pains to conceal his page, and 
from where she sat opposite him, Elnora could not look his way 
without reading: “My dearest Edith.” He wrote busily for a time 
and then sat staring across the garden. 

“Have you run out of material so quickly?” asked Elnora. 

“That’s about it,” said Philip. “I have said that I am getting 
well as rapidly as possible, that the air is fine, the folks at Uncle 
Doc’s all well, and entirely too good to me; that I am spending 
most of my time in the country helping catch moths for a collec- 
tion, which is splendid exercise; now I can’t think of another 
thing that will be interesting.” 

There was a burst of exquisite notes in the maple. 

“Put in the grosbeak,” suggested Elnora. “Tell her you are 
so friendly with him you feed him potato bugs.” 

Philip lowered the pen to the sheet, bent forward, then hesh 
tated. 

“Blest if I do!” he cried. “She’d think a grosbeak was a de- 
praved person with a large nose. She’d never dream that it was a 
black-robed lover, with a breast of snow and a crimson heart. She 
doesn’t care for hungry babies and potato bugs. I shall write that 
to father. He will find it delightful.” 

Elnora deftly picked up a moth, pinned it and placed its wings. 
She straightened the antennae, drew each leg into position and 
set it in perfectly lifelike manner. As she lifted her work to see if 


214 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

she had it right, she glanced at Philip. He was still frowning and 
hesitating over the paper. 

“I dare you to let me dictate a couple of paragraphs.” 

“Done!” cried Philip. “Go slowly enough that I can write it.” 

Elnora laughed gleefully. 

“I am writing this,” she began, “in an old grape arbor in 
the country, near a log cabin where I had my dinner. From where 
I sit I can see directly into the home of the next-door neighbor 
on the west. His name is R. B. Grosbeak. From all I have seen of 
him, he is a gentleman of the old school; the oldest school there 
is, no doubt. He always wears a black suit and cap and a white 
vest, decorated with one large red heart, which I think must be 
the emblem of some ancient order. I have been here a number 
of times, and I never have seen him wear anything else, or his 
wife appear in other than a brown dress with touches of white. 

“It has appealed to me at times that she was a shade neglect- 
ful of her home duties, but he does not seem to feel that way. He 
cheerfully stays in the sitting-room, while she is away having a 
good time, and sings while he cares for the four small children. 
I must tell you about his music. I am sure he never saw inside a 
conservatory. I think he merely picked up what he knows by ear 
and without vocal training, but there is a tenderness in his 
tones, a depth of pure melody, that I never have heard surpassed. 
It may be that I think more of his music than that of some other 
good vocalists hereabout, because I see more of him and ap- 
preciate his devotion to his home life. 

“I just had an encounter with him at the west fence, and in- 
duced him to carry a small gift to his children. When I see the 
perfect harmony in which he lives, and the depth of content he 

and the brown lady find in life, I am almost persuaded to 

Now this is going to be poetry,” said Elnora. “Move your pen over 
here and begin with a quote and a cap.” 

Philip’s face had been an interesting study while he wrote her 
sentences. Now he gravely set the pen where she indicated, and 
Elnora dictated — 

“Buy a nice little home in the country , 

And settle down there for life . 33 


FACES THE ALMIGHTY 215 

“That’s the truth!” cried Philip. “It’s as big a temptation as 
I ever had. Go on!” 

“That’s all,” said Elnora. “You can finish. The moths are 
done. I am going hunting for whatever I can find for the grades.” 

“Wait a minute,” begged Philip. “I am going, too.” 

“No. You stay with mother and finish your letter.” 

“It is done. I couldn’t add anything to that.” 

“Very well! Sign your name and come on. But I forgot to tell 
you all the bargain. Maybe you won’t send the letter when you 
hear that. The remainder is that you show me the reply to my 
part of it.” 

“Oh, that’s easy! I wouldn’t have the slightest objection to 
showing you the whole letter.” 

He signed his name, folded the sheets and slipped them into 
his pocket. 

“Where are we going and what do we take?” 

“Will you go, mother?” asked Elnora. 

“I have a little work that should be done,” said Mrs. Corn- 
stock. “Could you spare me? Where do you want to go?” 

“We will go down to Aunt Margaret’s and see her a few min- 
utes and get Billy. We will be back in time for supper.” 

Mrs. Comstock smiled as she watched them down the road. 
What a splendid-looking pair of young creatures they were! 
How finely proportioned, how full of vitality! Then her face 
grew troubled as she saw them in earnest conversation. Just as she 
was wishing she had not trusted her precious girl with so much of 
a stranger, she saw Elnora stoop to lift a branch and peer under. 
The mother grew content. Elnora was thinking only of her work. 
She was to be trusted utterly. 


CHAPTER XVI 


Wherein the Limberlost Sings for Philip, 
and the Talking Trees Tell 
Great Secrets 


A few days later Philip handed Elnora a sheet of paper and she 
read : “In your condition I should think the moth hunting and 
life at that cabin would be very good for you, but for any sake 
keep away from that Grosbeak person, and don’t come home 
with your head full of granger ideas. No doubt he has a remark- 
able voice, but I can’t bear untrained singers, and don’t you get 
the idea that a June song is perennial. You are not hearing the 
music he will make when the four babies have the scarlet fever 
and the measles, and the gadding wife leaves him at home to care 
for them then. Poor soul, I pity her ! How she exists where ram- 
pant cows bellow at you, frogs croak, mosquitoes consume you, 
the butter goes to oil in summer and bricks in winter, while the 
pump freezes every day, and there is no earthly amusement, and 
no society! Poor things! Can’t you influence him to move? No 
wonder she gads when she has a chance! I should die. If you 
are thinking of settling in the country, think also of a woman 
who is satisfied with white and brown to accompany you ! Brown ! 
Of all deadly colors ! I should go mad in brown.” 

Elnora laughed while she read. Her face was dimpling, as she 
returned the sheet. “Who’s ahead?” she asked. 

“Who do you think?” he parried. 

“She is,” said Elnora. “Are you going to tell her in your next 
that R. B. Grosbeak is a bird, and that he probably will spend the 
winter in a wild plum thicket in Tennessee?” 


THE LIMBERLOST SINGS 217 

“No,” said Philip. “I shall tell her that I understand her 
ideas of life perfectly, and, of course, I never shall ask her to 
deal with oily butter and frozen pumps ” 

“ — and measley babies, 55 interpolated Elnora. 

“Exactly!” said Philip. “At the same time I find so much 
to counterbalance those things, that I should not object to bearing 
them myself, in view of the recompense. Where do we go and 
what do we do today?” 

“We will have to hunt beside the roads and around the edge 
of the Limberlost today,” said Elnora. “Mother is making 
strawberry preserves, and she can’t come until she finishes. Sup- 
pose we go down to the swamp and I’ll show you what is left of 
the flower-room that Terence O’ More, the big lumber man of 
Great Rapids, made when he was a homeless boy here. Of 
course, you have heard the story?” 

“Yes, and I’ve met the O’Mores who are frequently in Chicago 
society. They have friends there. I think them one ideal couple.” 

“That sounds as if they might be the only one,” said Elnora, 
“and, indeed, they are not. I know dozens. Aunt Margaret and 
Uncle Wesley are another, the Brownlees another, and my mathe- 
matics professor and his wife. The world is full of happy people, 
but no one ever hears of them. You must fight and make a scandal 
to get into the papers. No one knows about all the happy people. 

I am happy myself, and look how perfectly inconspicuous I 

___ ” 

am. 

“You only need go where you will be seen,” began Philip, 
when he remembered and finished. “What do we take today?” 

“Ourselves,” said Elnora. “I have a vagabond streak in my 
blood and it’s in evidence. I am going to show you where real 
flowers grow, real birds sing, and if I feel quite right about it, 
perhaps I shall raise a note or two myself.” 

“Oh, do you sing?” asked Philip politely. 

“At times,” answered Elnora. “ ‘As do the birds, because I 
must,’ but don’t be scared. The mood does not possess me often. 
Perhaps I shan’t raise a note.” 

They went down the road to the swamp, climbed the snake 
fence, followed the path to the old trail and then turned south 


218 a girl of the limberlost 

upon it. Elnora indicated to Philip the trail with remnants of 
sagging barbed wire. 

“It was ten years ago,” she said. “I was a little schoolgirl, but 
I wandered widely even then, and no one cared. I saw him often. 
He had been in a city institution all his life, when he took the 
job of keeping timber thieves out of this swamp, before many trees 
had been cut. It was a strong man’s work, and he was a frail boy, 
but he grew hardier as he lived out of doors. This trail we are 
on is the path his feet first wore, in those days when he was in- 
sane with fear and eaten up with loneliness, but he stuck to his 
work and won out. I used to come down to the road and creep 
among the bushes as far as I dared, to watch him pass. He walked 
mostly, at times he rode a wheel. 

“Some days his face was dreadfully sad, others it was so deter- 
mined a little child could see the force in it, and once he was 
radiant. That day the Swamp Angel was with him. I can’t tell you 
what she was like. I never say anyone who resembled her. He 
stopped close here to show her a bird’s nest. Then they went on 
to a sort of flower-room he had made, and he sang for her. By 
the time he left, I had gotten bold enough to come out on the 
trail, and I met the big Scotchman Freckles lived with. He saw 
me catching moths and butterflies, so he took me to the flower- 
room and gave me everything there. I don’t dare come alone 
often, so I can’t keep it up as he did, but you can see something 
of how it was.” 

Elnora led the way and Philip followed. The outlines of the 
room were not distinct, because many of the trees were gone, but 
Elnora showed how it had been as nearly as she could. 

“The swamp is almost ruined now,” she said. “The maples, 
walnuts, and cherries are all gone. The talking trees are the only 
things left worth while.” 

“The ‘talking trees’ ! I don’t understand,” commented Philip. 

“No wonder!” laughed Elnora. “They are my discovery. You 
know all trees whisper and talk during the summer, but there 
are two that have so much to say they keep on the whole winter, 
when the others are silent. The beeches and oaks so love to talk, 
they cling to their dead, dry leaves. In the winter the winds are 


THE LIMtfERLOST SINGS 2IQ 

stiffest and blow most, so these trees whisper, chatter, sob, laugh, 
and at times roar until the sound is deafening. They never cease 
until new leaves come out in the spring to push off the old ones. 
I love to stand beneath them with my ear to the trunks, interpret- 
ing what they say to fit my moods. The beeches branch low, and 
their leaves are small so they only know common earthly things; 
but the oaks run straight above almost all other trees before they 
branch, their arms are mighty, their leaves large. They meet the 
winds that travel around the globe, and from them learn the big 
things.” 

Philip studied the girl face. “What do the beeches tell you, 
Elnora?” he asked gently. 

“To be patient, to be unselfish, to do unto others as I would 
have them do to me.” 

“And the oaks?” 

“They say ‘be true,’ ‘live a clean life,’ ‘send your soul up here 
and the winds of the world will teach it what honor achieves.’ ” 

“Wonderful secrets, those!” marveled Philip. “Are they tell- 
ing them now? Could I hear?” 

“No. They are only gossiping now. This is playtime. They tell 
the big secrets to a white world, when the music inspires them.” 

“The music?” 

“All other trees are harps in the winter. Their trunks are the 
frames, their branches the strings, the winds the musicians. 
When the air is cold and clear, the world very white, and the harp 
music swelling, then the talking trees tell the strengthening, up- 
lifting things.” 

“You wonderful girl!” cried Philip. “What a woman you will 
be!” 

“If I am a woman at all worth while, it will be because I have 
had such wonderful opportunities,” said Elnora. “Not every girl 
is driven to the forest to learn what God has to say there. Here 
are the remains of Freckles’s room. The time the Angel came here 
he sang to her, and I listened. I never heard music like that. No 
wonder she loved him. Everyone who knew him did, and they do 
yet. Try that log, it makes a fairly good seat. This old storebox 
was his treasure house, just as it’s now mine. I will show you 


220 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

my dearest possession. I do not dare take it home because mother 
can’t overcome her dislike for it. It was my father’s, and in some 
ways I am like him. This is the strongest.” 

Elnora lifted the violin and began to play. She wore a school 
dress of green gingham, with the sleeves rolled to the elbows. 
She seemed a part of the setting all around her. Her head shone 
like a small dark sun, and her face never had seemed so rose- 
flushed and fair. From the instant she drew the bow, her lips 
parted and her eyes turned toward something far away in the 
swamp, and never did she give more of that impression of feeling 
for her notes and repeating something audible only to her. Philip 
was too close to get the best effect. He arose and stepped back 
several yards, leaning against a large tree, looking and listening 
intently. 

As he changed positions he saw that Mrs. Comstock had fol- 
lowed them, and was standing on the trail, where she could not 
have helped hearing everything Elnora had said. So to Philip 
before her and the mother watching on the trail, Elnora played 
the Song of the Limberlost. It seemed as if the swamp hushed all 
its other voices and spoke only through her dancing bow. The 
mother out on the trail had heard it all, once before from the 
girl, many times from her father. To the man it was a revelation. 
He stood so stunned he forgot Mrs. Comstock. He tried to realize 
what a city audience would say to that music, from such a player, 
with a similar background, and he could not imagine. 

He was wondering what he dared say, how much he might ex- 
press, when the last note fell and the girl laid the violin in the case, 
closed the door, locked it and hid the key in the rotting wood at 
the end of a log. Then she came to him. Philip stood looking at 
her curiously. 

“I wonder,” he said, “what people would say to that?” 

“I played that in public once,” said Elnora. “I think they 
liked it, fairly well. I had a note yesterday offering me the leader- 
ship of the high school orchestra in Onabasha. I can take it as 
well as not. None of my talks to the grades come the first thing in 
the morning. I can play a few minutes in the orchestra and reach 
the rooms in plenty of time. It will be more work that I love, and 


THE LIMBERLOST SINGS 221 

like finding the money. I would gladly play for nothing merely to 
be able to express myself.” 

“With some people it makes a regular battlefield of the human 
heart — this struggle for self-expression,” said Philip. “You are 
going to do beautiful work in the world, and do it well. When I 
realize that your violin belonged to your father, that he played 
it before you were bom, and it no doubt affected your mother 
strongly, and then couple with that the years you have roamed 
these fields and swamps finding in nature all you had to lavish 
your heart upon, I can see how you evolved. I understand what 
you mean by self-expression. I know something of what you have 
to express. The world never so wanted your message as it does 
now. It is hungry for the things you know. I can see easily how 
your position came to you. What you have to give is taught in 
no college, and I am not sure but you would spoil yourself if you 
tried to run your mind through a set groove with hundreds of 
others. I never thought I should say such a thing to anyone, but 
I do say to you, and I honestly believe it ; give up the college idea. 
Your mind does not need that sort of development. Stick close 
to your work in the woods. You are becoming so infinitely greater 
on it, than the best college girl I ever knew, that there is no 
comparison. When you have money to spend, take that violin 
and go to one of the world’s great masters and let the Limberlost 
sing to him ; if he thinks he can improve it, very well. I have my 
doubts.” 

“Do you really mean that you would give up all idea of going 
to college, in my place?” 

“I really mean it,” said Philip. “If I now held the money in 
my hands to send you, and could give it to you in some way you 
would accept I would not. I do not know why it is the fate 
of the world always to want something different from what life 
gives them. If you only could realize it, my girl, you are in college, 
and have been always. You are in the school of experience, and 
it has taught you to think, and given you a heart. God knows I 
envy the man who wins it! You have been in the college of the 
Limberlost all your life, and I never met a graduate from any 
other institution who could begin to compare with you in sanity. 


222 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

clarity, and interesting knowledge. I wouldn’t even advise you to 
read too many books on your lines. You acquire your material first 
hand, and you know that you are right. What you should do is to 
begin early to practice self-expression. Don’t wait too long to tell 
us about the woods as you know them.” 

“Follow the course of the Bird Woman, you mean?” asked 
Elnora. 

“In your own way; with your own light. She won’t live forever. 
You are younger, and you will be ready to begin where she ends. 
The swamp has given you all you need so far; now you give it to 
the world in payment. College be confounded ! Go to work and 
show people what there is in you!” 

Not until then did he remember Mrs. Comstock. 

“Should we go out to the trail and see if your mother is com- 
ing?” he asked. 

“Here she is now,” said Elnora. “Gracious, it’s a mercy I got 
that violin put away in time ! I didn’t expect her so soon,” whis- 
pered the girl as she turned and went toward her mother. Mrs. 
Comstock’s expression was peculiar as she looked at Elnora. 

“I forgot that you were making sun-preserves and they didn’t 
require much cooking,” she said. “We should have waited for 
you.” 

“Not at all!” answered Mrs. Comstock. “Have you found 
anything yet?” 

“Nothing that I can show you,” said Elnora. “I am almost 
sure I have found an idea that will revolutionize the whole course 
of my work, thought, and ambitions.” 

“ ‘Ambitions!’ My, what a hefty word!” laughed Mrs. Com- 
stock. “Now who would suspect a little red-haired country girl 
of harboring such a deadly germ in her body? Can you tell 
mother about it?” 

“Not if you talk to me that way, I can’t,” said Elnora. 

“Well, I guess we better let ambition lie. I’ve always heard it 
was safest asleep. If you ever get a bona fide attack, it will be 
time to attend it. Let’s hunt specimens. It is June. Philip and I 
are in the grades. You have an hour to put an idea into our heads 
that will stick for a lifetime, and grow for good. That’s the way 


THE LIMBERLOST SINGS 223 

I look at your job. Now, what are you going to give us? We 
don’t want any old silly stuff that has been hashed over and over, 
we want a big new idea to plant in our hearts. Come on, Miss 
Teacher, what is the boiled-down, double-distilled essence of 
June? Give it to us strong. We are large enough to furnish it 
developing ground. Hurry up ! Time is short and we are waiting. 
What is the miracle of June? What one thing epitomizes the 
whole month, and makes it just a little different from any other?” 

“The birth of these big night moths,” said Elnora promptly. 

Philip clapped his hands. The tears started to Mrs. Comstock’s 
eyes. She took Elnora in her arms, and kissed her forehead. 

“You’ll do!” she said. “June is June, not because it has bloom, 
bird, fruit, or flower, exclusive to it alone. It’s half May and half 
July in all of them. But to me it’s just June, when it comes to these 
great, velvet-winged night moths which sweep its moonlit skies, 
consummating their scheme of creation, and dropping like a 
bloomed-out flower. Give them moths for June. Then make that 
the basis of your year’s work. Find the distinctive feature of each 
month, the one thing which marks it a time apart, and hit them 
squarely between the eyes with it. Even the babies of the lowest 
grades can comprehend moths when they see a few emerge, and 
learn their history, as it can be lived before them. You should 
show your specimens in pairs, then their eggs, the growing 
caterpillars, and then the cocoons. You want to dig out the red 
heart of every month in the year, and hold it pulsing before them. 

“I can’t name all of them offhand, but I think of one more 
right now. February belongs to our winter birds. It is then the 
great horned owl of the swamp courts his mate, the big hawks 
pair, and even the crows begin to take notice. These are truly our 
birds. Like the poor we have them always with us. You should 
hear the musicians of this swamp in February, Philip, on a mellow 
night. Oh, but they are in earnest! For twenty-one years I’ve 
listened by night to the great owls, all the smaller sizes, the foxes, 
coons, and every resident left in these woods, and by day to the 
hawks, yellow-hammers, sap-suckers, titmice, crows, and other 
winter birds. Only just now it’s come to me that the distinctive 
feature of February is not linen bleaching, nor sugar making; it’s 


224 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

the love month of our very own birds. Give them hawks and owls 
for February, Elnora.” 

With flashing eyes the girl looked at Philip. “How’s that?” she 
said. “Don’t you think I will succeed, with such help? You 
should hear the concert she is talking about! It is simply inde- 
scribable when the ground is covered with snow, and the moon- 
light white.” 

“It’s about the best music we have,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I 
wonder if you couldn’t copy that and make a strong, original 
piece out of it for your violin, Elnora?” 

There was one tense breath, then — “I could try,” said Elnora 
simply. 

Philip rushed to the rescue. “We must go to work,” he said, 
and began examining a walnut branch for Luna moth eggs. 
Elnora joined him while Mrs. Comstock drew her embroidery 
from her pocket and sat on a log. She said she was tired, they 
could come for her when they were ready to go. She could hear 
their voices around her until she called them at suppertime. 
When they came to her she stood waiting on the trail, the sewing 
in one hand, the violin in the other. Elnora became very white, 
but followed the trail without a word. Philip, unable to see a 
woman carry a heavier load than he, reached for the instrument. 
Mrs. Comstock shook her head. She carried the violin home, took 
it into her room and closed the door. Elnora turned to Philip. 

“If she destroys that, I shall die!” cried the girl. 

“She won’t!” said Philip. “You misunderstand her. She 
wouldn’t have said what she did about the owls, if she had 
meant to. She is your mother. No one loves you as she does. Trust 
her! Myself — I think she’s simply great!” 

Mrs. Comstock returned with serene face, and all of them 
helped with the supper. When it was over Philip and Elnora 
sorted and classified the afternoon’s specimens, and made a trip 
to the woods to paint and light several trees for moths. When 
they came back Mrs. Comstock sat in the arbor, and they 
joined her. The moonlight was so intense, print could have been 
read by it. The damp night air held odors near to earth, making 
flower and tree perfume strong. A thousand insects were serenad- 


THE LIMBERLOST SINGS 225 

ing, and in the maple the grosbeak occasionally said a reassuring 
word to his wife, while she answered that all was well. A whip- 
poor-will wailed in the swamp and beside the blue-bordered pool 
a chat complained disconsolately. Mrs. Comstock went into the 
cabin, but she returned immediately, laying the violin and bow 
across Elnora’s lap. “I wish you would give us a little music,” she 
said. 


CHAPTER XVII 


Wherein Mrs. Comstock Dances in the 
Moonlight, and Elnora Makes a 

Confession 


Billy was swinging in the hammock, at peace with himself and 
all the world, when he thought he heard something. He sat bolt 
upright, his eyes staring. Once he opened his lips, then thought 
again and closed them. The sound persisted. Billy vaulted the 
fence, and ran down the road with his queer sidewise hop. When 
he neared the Comstock cabin, he left the warm dust of the high- 
way and stepped softly at slower pace over the rank grasses of 
the roadside. He had heard aright. The violin was in the grape 
arbor, singing a perfect jumble of everything, poured out in an 
exultant tumult. The strings were voicing the joy of a happy girl 
heart. 

Billy climbed the fence enclosing the west woods and crept to- 
ward the arbor. He was not a spy and not a sneak. He merely 
wanted to satisfy his child heart as to whether Mrs. Comstock 
was at home, and Elnora at last playing her loved violin with her 
mother’s consent. One peep sufficed. Mrs. Comstock sat in the 
moonlight, her head leaning against the arbor; on her face was 
a look of perfect peace and contentment. As he stared at her 
the bow hesitated a second and Mrs. Comstock spoke: “That’s 
all very melodious and sweet,” she said, “but I do wish you 
could play Money Musk and some of the tunes I danced as a 
girl.” 

Elnora had been carefully avoiding every note that might be 


MRS. COMSTOCK DANCES 


227 

reminiscent of her father. At the words she laughed softly and 
began “Turkey in the Straw.” An instant later Mrs. Comstock 
was dancing in the moonlight. Ammon sprang to her side, caught 
her in his arms, while to Elnora’s laughter and the violin’s im- 
petus they danced until they dropped panting on the arbor bench. 

Billy scarcely knew when he reached the road. His light feet 
barely touched the soft way, so swiftly he flew. He vaulted the 
fence and burst into the house. 

“Aunt Margaret! Uncle Wesley!” he screamed. “Listen! 
Listen! She’s playing it! Elnora’s playing her violin at home! 
And Aunt Kate is dancing like anything before the arbor! I 
saw her in the moonlight! I ran down! Oh, Aunt Margaret!” 

Billy fled sobbing to Margaret’s breast. 

“Why, Billy!” she chided. “Don’t cry, you little dunce! That’s 
what we’ve all prayed for these many years; but you must be 
mistaken about Kate. I can’t believe it.” 

Billy lifted his head. “Well, you just have to!” he said. “When 
I say I saw anything, Uncle Wesley knows I did. The city man 
was dancing with her. They danced together and Elnora laughed. 
But it didn’t look funny to me; I was scared.” 

“Who was it said ‘wonders never cease!’ ” asked Wesley. “You 
mark my word, once you get Kate Comstock started, you can’t 
stop her. There’s a wagon load of penned-up force in her. Danc- 
ing in the moonlight! Well, I’ll be hanged!” 

Billy was at his side instantly. “Whoever does it will have to 
hang me, too,” he cried. 

Sinton threw his arm around Billy and drew him closely. “Tell 
us all about it, son,” he said. Billy told. “And when Elnora just 
stopped a breath, ‘Can’t you play some of the old things I knew 
when I was a girl?’ said her ma. Then Elnora began to do a 
thing that made you want to whirl round and round, and quicker 
’an scat there was her ma a-whirling. The city man, he ups and 
grabs her and whirls, too, and back in the woods I was going 
just like they did. Elnora begins to laugh, and I ran to tell you, 
cos I knew you’d like to know. Now, all the world is right, ain’t 
it?” ended Billy in supreme satisfaction. 

“You just bet it is !” said Wesley. 


228 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

Billy looked steadily at Margaret. “Is it, Aunt Margaret?” 

Margaret Sinton smiled at him bravely. 

An hour later when Billy was ready to climb the stairs to his 
room, he went to Margaret to say good night. He leaned against 
her an instant, then brought his lips to her ear. “Wish I could 
get your little girls back for you !” he whispered and dashed to- 
ward the stairs. 

Down at the Comstock cabin the violin played on until Elnora 
was so tired she scarcely could lift the bow. Then Philip went 
home. The women walked to the gate with him, and stood watch- 
ing him from sight. 

“That’s what I call one decent young man!” said Mrs. Com- 
stock. “To see him fit in with us, you’d think he’d been brought 
up in a cabin; but it’s likely he’s always had the very cream o* 
the pot.” 

“Yes, I think so,” laughed Elnora, “but it hasn’t hurt him. I’ve 
never seen anything I could criticise. He’s teaching me so much, 
unconsciously. You know he graduated from Harvard, and has 
several degrees in law. He’s coming in the morning, and we are go- 
ing to put in a big day on Catocalae.” 

“Which is ?” 

“Those gray moths with wings that fold back like big flies, 
and they appear as if they had been carved from old wood. Then, 
when they fly, the lower wings flash out and they are red and 
black, or gold and black, or pink and black, or dozens of bright, 
beautiful colors combined with black. No one ever has classified 
all of them and written their complete history, unless the Bird 
Woman is doing it now. She wants everything she can get about 
them.” 

“I remember,” said Mrs. Comstock. “They are mighty pretty 
things. I’ve started up slews of them from the vines covering the 
logs, all my life. I must be cautious and catch them after this, 
but they seem powerful spry. I might get hold of something rare.” 
She thought intently and added, “And wouldn’t know it if I did. 
It would just be my luck. I’ve had the rarest thing on earth in 
reach this many a day and only had the wit to cinch it just as it was 
going. I’ll bet I don’t let anything else escape me.” 


MRS. COMSTOCK DANCES 229 

Next morning Philip came early, and he and Elnora went at 
once to the fields and woods. Mrs. Comstock had come to believe 
so implicitly in him that she now stayed at home to complete the 
work before she joined them, and when she did she often sat 
sewing, leaving them wandering hours at a time. It was noon 
before she finished, and then she packed a basket of lunch. She 
found Elnora and Philip near the violet patch, which was still in 
its prime. They all lunched together in the shade of a wild crab 
thicket, with flowers spread at their feet, and the gold orioles 
streaking the air with flashes of light and trailing ecstasy behind 
them, while the red-wings, as always, asked the most impertinent 
questions. Then Mrs. Comstock carried the basket back to the 
cabin, and Philip and Elnora sat on a log, resting a few minutes. 
They had unexpected luck, and both were eager to continue 
the search. 

“Do you remember your promise about these violets?” asked 
he. “Tomorrow is Edith’s birthday, and if I’d put them special 
delivery on the morning train, she’d get them in the late after- 
noon. They ought to keep that long. She leaves for the North next 
day.” 

“Of course, you may have them,” said Elnora. “We will quit 
long enough before supper to gather a large bunch. They can be 
packed so they will carry all right. They should be perfectly fresh, 
especially if we gather them this evening and let them drink 
all night.” 

Then they went back to hunt Catocalae. It was a long and a 
happy search. It led them into new, unexplored nooks of the 
woods, past a red-poll nest, and where goldfinches prospected for 
thistledown for the cradles they would line a little later. It led 
them into real forest, where deep, dark pools lay, where the hermit 
thrush and the wood robin extracted the essence from all other 
bird melody, and poured it out in their pure bell-tone notes. 
It seemed as if every old gray tree trunk, slab of loose bark, and 
prostrate log yielded the flashing gray treasures; while of all 
others they seemed to take alarm most easily, and be most difficult 
to capture. 

Philip came to Elnora at dusk, daintily holding one by the body, 


230 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

its dark wings showing and its long slender legs trying to clasp his 
fingers and creep from his hold. 

“Oh, for mercy’s sake !” cried Elnora, staring at him. 

“I half believe it!” exulted Ammon. 

“Did you ever see one?” 

“Only in collections, and very seldom there.” 

Elnora studied the black wings intently. “I surely believe that’s 
Sappho,” she marveled. “The Bird Woman will be overjoyed.” 

“We must get the cyanide jar quickly,” said Philip. “I wouldn’t 
lose her for anything. Such a chase as she led me!” 

Elnora brought the jar and began gathering up paraphernalia. 

“When you make a find like that,” she said, “it’s the right time 
to quit and feel glorious all the rest of that day. I tell you I’m 
proud! We will go now. We have barely time to carry out our 
plans before supper. Won’t mother be pleased to see that we have 
a rare one?-’ ; 

“I’d like to see anyone more pleased than I am!” said Philip 
Ammon. “I feel as if I’d earned my supper tonight. Let’s go.” 

He took the greater part of the load and stepped aside for 
Elnora to precede him. She followed the path, broken by the 
grazing cattle, toward the cabin and nearest the violet patch she 
stopped, laid down her net, and the things she carried. Philip 
passed her and hurried straight toward the back gate. 

“Aren’t you going to ?” began Elnora. 

“I’m going to get this moth home in a hurry,” he said. “This 
cyanide has lost its strength, and it’s not working well. We need 
some fresh in the jar.” 

He had forgotten the violets ! Elnora stood looking after him, 
a curious expression on her face. One second so — then she picked 
up the net and followed. At the blue-bordered pool she paused 
and half turned back, then she closed her lips firmly and went on. 
It was nine o’clock when Philip said good-bye, and started to 
town. His gay whistle floated to them from the farthest comer of 
the Limberlost. Elnora complained of being tired, so she went to 
her room and to bed. But sleep would not come. Thought was 
racing in her brain and the longer she lay the wider awake she 
grew. At last she softly slipped from bed, lighted her lamp and 


MRS, COMSTOCK DANCES 23 1 

began opening boxes. Then she went to work. Two hours later a 
beautiful birch bark basket, strongly and artistically made, stood 
on her table. She set a tiny alarm clock at three, returned to 
bed and fell asleep instantly with a smile on her lips. 

She was on the floor with the first tinkle of the alarm, and 
hastily dressing, she picked up the basket and a box to fit it, 
crept down the stairs, and out to the violet patch. She was un- 
afraid as it was growing light, and lining the basket with damp 
mosses she swiftly began picking, with practiced hands, the best 
of the flowers. She scarcely could tell which were freshest at times, 
but day soon came creeping over the Limberlost and peeped at 
her. The robins awoke all their neighbors, and a babel of bird 
notes filled the air. The dew was dripping, while the first strong 
rays of light fell on a world in which Elnora worshiped. When 
the basket was filled to overflowing, she set it in the stout paste- 
board box, packed it solid with mosses, tied it firmly and slipped 
under the cord a note she had written the previous night. 

Then she took a short cut across the woods and walked swiftly 
to Onabasha. It was after six o’clock, but all of the city she 
wished to avoid were asleep. She had no trouble in finding a small 
boy out, and she stood at a distance waiting while he rang Dr. 
Ammon’s bell and delivered the package for Philip to a maid, 
with the note which was to be given him at once. 

On the way home through the woods passing some baited trees 
she collected the captive moths. She entered the kitchen with 
them so naturally that Mrs. Comstock made no comment. After 
breakfast Elnora went to her room, cleared away all trace of the 
night’s work and was out in the arbor mounting moths when 
Philip came down the road. “I am tired sitting,” she said to her 
mother. “I think I will walk a few rods and meet him.” 

“Who’s a trump?” he called from afar. 

“Not you!” retorted Elnora. “Confess that you forgot!” 

“Completely!” said Philip. “But luckily it would not have been 
fatal. I wrote Polly last week to send Edith something appropriate 
today, with my card. But that touch from the woods will be very 
effective. Thank you more than I can say. Aunt Anna and I un- 


232 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

packed it to see the basket, and it was a beauty. She says you 
are always doing such things.” 

“Well, I hope not!” laughed Elnora. “If you’d seen me sneak- 
ing out before dawn, not to awaken mother and coming in with 
moths to make her think I’d been to the trees, you’d know it was a 
most especial occasion.” 

Then Philip understood two things: Elnora’s mother did not 
know of the early morning trip to the city, and the girl had come 
to meet him to tell him so. 

“You were a brick to do it !” he whispered as he closed the gate 
behind them. “I’ll never forget you for it. Thank you ever so 
much.” 

“I did not do that for you,” said Elnora tersely. “I did it 
mostly to preserve my own self-respect. I saw you were forgetting. 
If I did it for anything besides that, I did it for her.” 

“Just look what I’ve brought!” said Philip, entering the arbor 
and greeting Mrs. Comstock. “Borrowed it of the Bird Woman. 
And it isn’t hers. A rare edition of Catocalae with colored plates. 
I told her the best I could, and she said to try for Sappho here. 
I suspect the Bird Woman will be out presently. She was all 
excitement.” 

Then they bent over the book together and with the mounted 
moth before them determined her family. The Bird Woman did 
come later, and carried the moth away to put into a book and 
Elnora and Philip were freshly filled with enthusiasm. 

So these days were the beginning of the weeks that followed. 
Six of them flying on Time’s wings, each filled to the brim with 
interest. After June, the moth hunts grew less frequent; the fields 
and woods were searched for material for Elnora’s grade work. 
The most absorbing occupation they found was in carrying out 
Mrs. Comstock’s suggestion to learn the vital thing for which each 
month was distinctive, and make that the key to the nature work. 
They wrote out a list of the months, opposite each the things all 
of them could suggest which seemed to pertain to that month 
alone, and then tried to sift until they found something typical. 
Mrs. Comstock was a great help. Her mother had been Dutch 
and had brought from Holland numerous quaint sayings and 


MRS. COMSTOCK DANCES 233 

superstitions easily traceable to Pliny’s Natural History; and in 
Mrs. Comstock’s early years in Ohio she had heard much Indian 
talk among her elders, so she knew the signs of each season, and 
sometimes they helped. Always her practical thought and sterling 
common sense were useful. When they were afield until exhausted 
they came back to the cabin for food, to prepare specimens and 
classify them, and to talk over the day. Sometimes Philip brought 
books and read while Elnora and her mother worked, and every 
night Mrs. Comstock asked for the violin. Her perfect hunger 
for music was sufficient evidence of how she had suffered without 
it. So the days crept by, golden, filled with useful work and pure 
pleasure. 

The grosbeak had led the family in the maple abroad and a 
second brood, in a wild grape vine clambering over the well, was 
almost ready for flight. The dust lay thick on the country roads, 
the days grew warmer; summer was just poising to slip into fall, 
and Philip remained, coming each day as if he had belonged there 
always. 

One warm August afternoon Mrs. Comstock looked up from 
the ruffle on which she was engaged to see a blue-coated messenger 
enter the gate. 

“Is Philip Ammon here?” asked the boy. 

“He is,” said Mrs. Comstock. 

“I have a message for him.” 

“He is in the woods back of the cabin. I will ring the bell. Do 
you know if it is important?” 

“Urgent,” said the boy, “I rode hard.” 

Mrs. Comstock stepped to the back door and clanged the 
dinner bell sharply, paused a second, and rang again. In a short 
time Philip and Elnora ran down the path. 

“Are you ill, mother?” cried Elnora. 

Mrs. Comstock indicated the boy. “There is an important 
message for Philip,” she said. 

He muttered an excuse and tore open the telegram. His color 
faded slightly. “I have to take the first train,” he said. “My father 
is ill and I am needed.” 

He handed the sheet to Elnora. “I have about two hours, as I 


234 A GIRL of the limberlost 

remember the trains north, but my things are all over Uncle Doc’s 
house, so I must go at once.” 

“Certainly,” said Elnora, giving back the message. “Is there 
anything I can do to help? Mother, bring Philip a glass of butter- 
milk to start on. I will gather what you have here.” 

“Never mind. There is nothing of importance. I don’t want to 
be hampered. I’ll send for it if I miss anything I need.” 

Philip drank the milk, said good-bye to Mrs. Comstock* 
thanked her for all her kindness, and turned to Elnora. 

“Will you walk to the edge of the Limberlost with me?” he 
asked. Elnora assented. Mrs. Comstock followed to the gate, 
urged him to come again soon, and repeated her good-bye. Then 
she went back to the arbor to await Elnora’s return. As she 
watched down the road she smiled softly. 

“I had an idea he would speak to me first,” she thought, “but 
this may change things some. He hasn’t time. Elnora will come 
back a happy girl, and she has good reason. He is a model young 
man. Her lot will be very different from mine.” 

She picked up her embroidery and began setting dainty, precise 
little stitches, possible only to certain women. 

On the road Elnora spoke first. “I do hope it is nothing serious,” 
she said. “Is he usually strong?” 

“Quite strong,” said Philip. “I am not at all alarmed but I am 
very much ashamed. I have been well enough for the past month 
to have gone home and helped him with some critical cases that 
were keeping him at work in this heat. I was enjoying myself so I 
wouldn’t offer to go, and he would not ask me to come, so long 
as he could help it. I have allowed him to overtax himself until 
he is down, and mother and Polly are north at our cottage. He’s 
never been sick before, and it’s probable I am to blame that he 
is now.” 

“He intended you to stay this long when you came,” urged 
Elnora. 

“Yes, but it’s hot in Chicago. I should have remembered him. 
He is always thinking of me. Possibly he has needed me for days. 
I am ashamed to go to him in splendid condition and admit that I 
was having such a fine time I forgot to come home.” 


MRS. COMSTOCK DANCES 


235 


“You have had a fine time, then?” asked Elnora. 

They had reached the fence. Philip vaulted over to take a short 
cut across the fields. He turned and looked at her. 

“The best, the sweetest, and most wholesome time any man ever 
had in this world,” he said. “Elnora, if I talked hours I couldn’t 
make you understand what a girl I think you are. I never in all 
my life hated anything as I hate leaving you. It seems to me that 
I have not strength to do it.” 

“If you have learned anything worth while from me,” said 
Elnora, “that should be it. Just to have strength to go to your 
duty, and to go quickly.” 

He caught the hand she held out to him in both his. “Elnora, 
these days we have had together, have they been sweet to 
you?” 

“Beautiful days!” said Elnora. “Each like a perfect dream to be 
thought over and over all my life. Oh, they have been the only 
really happy days I’ve ever known ; these days rich with mother’s 
love, and doing useful work with your help. Good-bye! You 
must hurry!” 

Philip gazed at her. He tried to drop her hand, and only 
clutched it closer. Suddenly he drew her toward him. “Elnora,” 
he whispered, “will you kiss me good-bye?” 

Elnora drew back and stared at him with wide eyes. “I’d strike 
you sooner!” she said. “Have I ever said or done anything in 
your presence that made you feel free to ask that, Philip Ammon?” 

“No!” panted Philip. “No! I think so much of you, I wanted 
to touch your lips once before I left you. You know, Elnora ” 

“Don’t distress yourself,” said Elnora calmly. “I am broad 
enough to judge you sanely. I know what you mean. It would be 
no harm to you. It would not matter to me, but here we will think 
of someone else. Edith Carr would not want your lips tomorrow 
if she knew they had touched mine today. I was wise to say: ‘Go 
quickly!’ ” 

Philip still clung to her. “Will you write me?” he begged. 

“No,” said Elnora. “There is nothing to say, save good-bye. We 
can do that now.” 

He held on. “Promise that you will write me only one letter,’' 


236 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

he urged. “I want just one message from you to lock in my desk, 
and keep always. Promise you will write once, Elnora . 5 5 

She looked into his eyes, and smiled serenely. “If the talking 
trees tell me this winter, the secret of how a man may grow 
perfect, I will write you what it is, Philip. In all the time I have 
known you, I never have liked you so little. Good-bye. 5 ’ 

She drew away her hand and swiftly turned back to the road. 
Philip Ammon, wordless, started toward Onabasha on a run. 

Elnora crossed the road, climbed the fence and sought the 
shelter of their own woods. She chose a diagonal course and 
followed it until she came to the path leading past the violet patch. 
She went down this hurriedly. Her hands were clenched at her 
sides, her eyes dry and bright, her cheeks red-flushed, and her 
breath coming fast. When she reached the patch she turned into it 
and stood looking around her. 

The mosses were dry, the flowers gone, weeds a foot high 
covered it. She turned away and went on down the path until 
she was almost in sight of the cabin. 

Mrs. Comstock smiled and waited in the arbor until it oc- 
curred to her that Elnora was a long time coming, so she went to 
the gate. The road stretched away toward the Limberlost empty 
and lonely. Then she knew that Elnora had gone into their own 
woods and would come in the back way. She could not under- 
stand why the girl did not hurry to her with what she would have 
to tell. She went out and wandered around the garden. Then she 
stepped into the path and started along the way leading to the 
woods, past the pool now framed in a thick setting of yellow lilies. 
Then she saw, and stopped, gasping for breath. Her hands flew 
up and her lined face grew ghastly. She stared at the sky and 
then at the prostrate girl figure. Over and over she tried to speak, 
but only a dry breath came. She turned and fled back to the 
garden. 

In the familiar enclosure she gazed around her like a caged 
animal seeking escape. The sun beat down on her bare head 
mercilessly, and mechanically she moved to the shade of a half- 
grown hickory tree that voluntarily had sprouted beside the milk 
house. At her feet lay an axe with which she made kindlings for 


MRS. COMSTOCK DANCES 237 

fires. She stooped and picked it up. The memory of that prone 
figure sobbing in the grass caught her with a renewed spasm. 
She shut her eyes as if to close it out. That made hearing so 
acute she felt certain she heard Elnora moaning beside the path. 
The eyes flew open. They looked straight at a few spindling tomato 
plants set too near the tree and stunted by its shade. Mrs. Com- 
stock whirled on the hickory and swung the axe. Her hair shook 
down, her clothing became disarranged, in the heat the perspira- 
tion streamed, but stroke fell on stroke until the tree crashed over, 
grazing a corner of the milk house and smashing the garden fence 
on the east. 

At the sound Elnora sprang to her feet and came running down 
the garden walk. “Mother!” she cried. “Mother! What in the 
world are you doing?” 

Mrs. Comstock wiped her ghastly face on her apron. “I’ve 
laid out to cut that tree for years,” she said. “It shades the beets 
in the morning, and the tomatoes in the afternoon!” 

Elnora uttered one wild little cry and fled into her mother’s 
arms. “Oh, mother!” she sobbed. “Will you ever forgive me?” 

Mrs. Comstock’s arms swept together in a tight grip around 
Elnora. 

“There isn’t a thing on God’s footstool from a to izzard I won’t 
forgive you, my precious girl!” she said. “Tell mother what it 
is!” 

Elnora lifted her wet face. “He told me,” she panted, “just as 
soon as he decently could — that second day he told me. Almost 
all his life he’s been engaged to a girl at home. He never cared 
anything about me. He was only interested in the moths and 
growing strong.” 

Mrs. Comstock’s arms tightened. With a shaking hand she 
stroked the bright hair. 

“Tell me, honey,” she said. “Is he to blame for a single one 
of these tears?” 

“Not one !” sobbed Elnora. “Oh, mother, I won’t forgive you if 
you don’t believe that. Not one ! He never said, or looked, or did 
anything all the world might not have known. He likes me very 
much as a friend. He hated to go dreadfully !” 


238 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

“Elnora!” the mother’s head bent until the white hair mingled 
with the brown. “Elnora, why didn’t you tell me at first?” 

Elnora caught her breath in a sharp snatch. “I know I should !” 
she sobbed. “I will bear any punishment for not, but I didn’t 
feel as if I possibly could. I was afraid.” 

“Afraid of what?” The shaking hand was on the hair again. 

“Afraid you wouldn’t let him come!” panted Elnora. “And oh, 
mother, I wanted him so!” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


Wherein Mrs. Comstock Experiments with 
Rejuvenation, and Elnora Teaches 
Natural History 


For the following week Mrs. Comstock and Elnora worked so 
hard there was no time to talk, and they were compelled to sleep 
from physical exhaustion. Neither of them made any pretence of 
eating, for they could not swallow without an effort, so they 
drank milk and worked. Elnora kept on setting bait for Catacolae 
and Sphinginae, which, unlike the big moths of June, live several 
months. She took all the dragonflies and butterflies she could, and 
when she went over the list for the man of India, she found, to 
her amazement, that with Philip’s help she once more had it com- 
plete save a pair of Yellow Emperors. 

This circumstance was so surprising she had a fleeting thought 
of writing Philip and asking him to see if he could not secure her 
a pair. She did tell the Bird Woman, who from every source at 
her command tried to complete the series with these moths, but 
could not find any for sale. 

“I think the mills of the Gods are grinding this grist,” said 
Elnora, “and we might as well wait patiently until they choose 
to send a Yellow Emperor.” 

Mrs. Comstock invented work. When she had nothing more to 
do, she hoed in the garden although the earth was hard and dry 
and there were no plants that really needed attention. Then 
came a notification that Elnora would be compelled to attend 
a week’s session of the Teachers’ Institute held at the county seat 


24O A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

twenty miles north of Onabasha the following week. That gave 
them something of which to think and real work to do. Elnora 
was requested to bring her violin. As she was on the program of 
one of the most important sessions for a talk on nature work in 
grade schools, she was driven to prepare her speech, also to 
select and practice some music. Her mother turned her attention 
to clothing. 

They went to Onabasha together and purchased a simple and 
appropriate fall suit and hat, goods for a dainty little colored 
frock, and a dress skirt and several fancy waists. Margaret Sinton 
came down and the sewing began. When everything was finished 
and packed, Elnora kissed her mother good-bye at the depot, and 
entered the train. Mrs. Comstock went into the waiting-room and 
dropped into a seat to rest. Her heart was so sore her whole left 
side felt tender. She was half starved for the food she had no 
appetite to take. She had worked in dogged determination until 
she was exhausted. For a time she simply sat and rested. Then 
she began to think. She was glad Elnora had gone where she 
would be compelled to fix her mind on other matters for a few 
days. She remembered the girl had said she wanted to go. 

School would begin the following week. She thought over what 
Elnora would have to do to accomplish her work successfully. 
She would be compelled to arise at six o’clock, walk three miles 
through varying weather, lead the high school orchestra, and then 
put in the remainder of the day traveling from building to build- 
ing over the city, teaching a specified length of time every week 
in each room. She must have her object lessons ready, and she 
must do a certain amount of practicing with the orchestra. Then 
a cold lunch at noon, and a three-mile walk at night. 

“Humph!” said Mrs. Comstock, “to get through that the girl 
would have to be made of cast-iron. I wonder how I can help 
her best?” 

She thought deeply. 

“The less she sees of what she’s been having all summer, the 
sooner she’ll feel better about it,” she muttered. 

She arose, went to the bank and inquired for the cashier. 

“I want to know just how I am fixed here,” she said. 


EXPERIMENTS WITH REJUVENATION 24I 

The cashier laughed. “You haven’t been in a hurry,” he replied. 
“We have been ready for you any time these twenty years, but 
you didn’t seem to pay much attention. Your account is rather 
flourishing. Interest, when it gets to compounding, is quite a 
money breeder. Come back here to a table and I will show you 
your balances.” 

Mrs. Comstock sank into a chair and waited while the cashier 
read a jumble of figures to her. It meant that her deposits had 
exceeded her expenses from one to three hundred dollars a year, 
according to the cattle, sheep, hogs, poultry, butter, and eggs she 
had sold. The aggregate of these sums had been compounding 
interest throughout the years. Mrs. Comstock stared at the total 
with dazed and unbelieving eyes. Through her sick heart rushed 
the realization that if she merely had stood before that wicket 
and asked one question, she would have known that all those 
bitter years of skimping for Elnora and herself had been un- 
necessary. She arose and went back to the depot. 

“I want to send a message,” she said. She picked up the pencil, 
and with rash extravagance, wrote, “Found money at bank didn’t 
know about. If you want to go to college, come on first train and 
get ready.” She hesitated a second and then she said to herself 
grimly, “Yes, I’ll pay for that, too,” and recklessly added, “With 
love, Mother.” Then she sat waiting for the answer. It came in 
less than an hour. “Will teach this winter. With dearest love, 
Elnora.” 

Mrs. Comstock held the message a long time. When she arose 
she was ravenously hungry, but the pain m her heart was a little 
easier. She went to a restaurant and ate some food, then to a 
dressmaker where she ordered four dresses : two very plain every- 
day ones, a serviceable dark gray cloth suit, and a soft light 
gray silk with touches of lavender and lace. She made a heavy list 
of purchases at Brownlee’s, and the remainder of the day she did 
business in her direct and spirited way. At night she was so 
tired she scarcely could walk home, but she built a fire and cooked 
and ate a hearty meal. 

Later she went out beside the west fence and gathered an 
armful of tansy which she boiled to a thick green tea. Then she 


242 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

stirred in oatmeal until it was a stiff paste. She spread a sheet 
over her bed and began tearing strips of old muslin. She bandaged 
each hand and arm with the mixture and plastered the soggy, 
evil-smelling stuff in a thick poultice over her face and neck. She 
was so tired she went to sleep, and when she awoke she was half 
skinned. She bathed her face and hands, did the work and went 
back to town, coming home at night to go through the same 
process. 

By the third morning she was a raw even red, the fourth she 
had faded to a brilliant pink under the soothing influence of a 
cream recommended. That day came a letter from Elnora saying 
that she would remain where she was until Saturday morning, and 
then come to Ellen Brownlee’s at Onabasha and stay for the 
Saturday’s session of teachers to arrange their year’s work. Sun- 
day was Ellen’s last day at home, and she wanted Elnora very 
much. She had to call together the orchestra and practice them 
Sunday; and could not come home until after school Monday 
night. Mrs. Comstock at once answered the letter saying those 
arrangements suited her. 

The following day she was a pale pink, later a delicate porcelain 
white. Then she went to a hairdresser and had the rope of 
snowy hair which covered her scalp washed, dressed, and fastened 
with such pins and combs as were decided to be most becoming. 
She took samples of her dresses, went to a milliner, and bought 
a street hat to match her suit, and a gray satin with lavender 
orchids to wear with the silk dress. Her last investment was a 
loose coat of soft gray broadcloth with white lining, and touches 
of lavender on the embroidered collar, and gray gloves to match. 

Then she went home, rested and worked by turns until Monday. 
When school closed on that evening, Elnora, so tired she almost 
trembled, came down the long walk after a late session of teachers’ 
meeting, to be stopped by a messenger boy. 

“There’s a lady wants to see you most important. I am to take 
you to the place,” he said , 

Elnora groaned. She could not imagine who wanted her, but 
there was nothing to do but find out; tired and anxious to see 
her mother as she was. 


EXPERIMENTS WITH REJUVENATION 243 

“This is the place , 55 said the boy, and went his way whistling. 
Elnora was three blocks from the high school building on the 
same street. She was before a quaint old house, fresh with paint 
and covered with vines. There was a long wide lot, grass-covered, 
closely set with trees, and a barn and chicken park at the back 
that seemed to be occupied. Elnora stepped on the veranda which 
was furnished with straw rugs, bent-hickory chairs, hanging 
baskets, and a table with a workbox and magazines, and knocked 
at the screen door. 

Inside she could see polished floors, walls freshly papered in low- 
toned, harmonious colors, straw rugs and madras curtains. It 
seemed to be a restful, homelike place to which she had come. A 
second later down an open stairway came a tall, dark-eyed woman 
with cheeks faintly pink and a crown of fluffy snow-white hair. 
She wore a lavender gingham dress with white collar and cuffs, 
and she called as she advanced: “That screen isn’t latched! 
Open it and come see your brand-new mother, my girl . 55 

Elnora stepped inside the door. “Mother ! 55 she cried. “You my 
mother! I don’t believe it ! 55 

“Well, you better!” said Mrs. Comstock, “because it’s true! 
You said you wished I were like the other girls’ mothers, and I’ve 
shot as close the mark as I could without any practice. I thought 
that walk would be too much for you this winter, so I just rented 
this house and moved in, to be near you, and help more in case 
I’m needed. I’ve only lived here a day, but I like it so well I’ve a 
mortal big notion to buy the place.” 

“But, mother!” protested Elnora, clinging to her wonderingly. 
“You are perfectly beautiful, and this house is a little paradise, 
but how will we ever pay for it? We can’t afford it !” 

“Humph! Have you forgotten I telegraphed you I’d found 
some money I didn’t know about? All I’ve done is paid for, and 
plenty more to settle for all I propose to do.” 

Mrs. Comstock glanced around with satisfaction. 

“I may get homesick as a pup before spring,” she said, “but if 
I do I can go back. If I don’t, I’ll sell some timber and put a few 
oil wells where they don’t show much. I can have land enough 


244 A GIRL of the limberlost 

cleared for a few fields and put a tenant on our farm, and we will 
buy this and settle here. It’s for sale.” 

“You don’t look it, but you’ve surely gone mad !” 

“Just the reverse, my girl,” said Mrs. Comstock, “I’ve gone 
sane. If you are going to undertake this work, you must be 
convenient to it. And your mother should be where she can see 
that you are properly dressed, fed, and cared for. This is our — let 
me think — reception room. How do you like it? This door leads 
to your workroom and study. I didn’t do much there because I 
wasn’t sure of my way. But I knew you would want a rug, 
curtains, table, shelves for books, and a case for your specimens, 
so I had a carpenter shelve and enclose that end of it. Looks 
pretty neat to me. The dining room and kitchen are back, one of 
the cows in the bam, and some chickens in the coop. I understand 
that none of the other girls’ mothers milk a cow, so a neighbor 
boy will tend to ours for a third of the milk. There are three 
bedrooms, and a bath upstairs. Go take one, put on some fresh 
clothes, and come to supper. You can find your room because 
your things are in it.” 

Elnora kissed her mother over and over, and hurried upstairs. 
She identified her room by the dressing-case. There were a pretty 
rug, and curtains, white iron bed, plain and rocking chairs to 
match her case, a shirtwaist chest, and the big closet was filled 
with her old clothing and several new dresses. She found the bath- 
room, bathed, dressed in fresh linen and went down to a supper 
that was an evidence of Mrs. Comstock’s highest art in cooking. 
Elnora was so hungry she ate her first real meal in two weeks. 
But the bites went down slowly because she forgot about them in 
watching her mother. 

“How on earth did you do it?” she asked at last. “I always 
thought you were naturally brown as a nut.” 

“Oh, that was tan and sunburn!” explained Mrs. Comstock. 
“I always knew I was white underneath it. I hated to shade my 
face because I hadn’t anything but a sunbonnet, and I couldn’t 
stand for it to touch my ears, so I went bareheaded and took 
all the color I accumulated. But when I began to think of mov- 
ing you in to your work, I saw I must put up an appearance that 


EXPERIMENTS WITH REJUVENATION 245 

wouldn’t disgrace you, so I thought I’d best remove the crust. It 
took some time, and I hope I may die before I ever endure the 
feel and the smell of the stuff I used again, but it skinned me 
nicely. What you now see is my own with a little dust of rice 
powder, for protection. I’m sort of tender yet.” 

“And your lovely, lovely hair?” breathed Elnora. 

“Hairdresser did that!” said Mrs. Comstock. “It cost like 
smoke. But I watched her, and with a little help from you I can 
wash it alone next time, though it will be hard work. I let her 
monkey with it until she said she had found ‘my style.’ Then I 
tore it down and had her show me how to build it up again three 
times. I thought my arms would drop. When I paid the bill for 
her work, the time I’d taken, the pins, and combs she’d used, I 
nearly had heart failure, but I didn’t turn a hair before her. I just 
smiled at her sweetly and said, ‘How reasonable you are !’ Come to 
think of it, she was! She might have charged me ten dollars for 
what she did quite as well as nine seventy-five. I couldn’t have 
helped myself. I had made no bargain to begin on.” 

Then Elnora leaned back in her chair and shouted, in a gust 
of hearty laughter, so a little of the ache ceased in her breast. 
There was no time to think, the remainder of that evening, she 
was so tired she had to sleep, while her mother did not awaken 
her until she barely had time to dress, breakfast and reach school. 
There was nothing in the new life to remind her of the old. It 
seemed as if there never came a minute for retrospection, but her 
mother appeared on the scene with more work, or some entertain- 
ing thing to do. 

Mrs. Comstock invited Elnora’s friends to visit her, and proved 
herself a bright and interesting hostess. She digested a subject 
before she spoke; and when she advanced a view, her point was 
sure to be original and tersely expressed. Before three months 
people waited to hear what she had to say. She kept her ap- 
pearance so in mind that she made a handsome and a dis- 
tinguished figure. 

Elnora never mentioned Philip Ammon, neither did Mrs. Com- 
stock. Early in December came a note and a big box from him. It 
contained several books on nature subjects which would be of 


246 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

much help in school work, a number of conveniences Elnora could 
not afford, and a pair of glass-covered plaster casts, for each large 
moth she had. In these the upper and under wings of male and fe- 
male showed. He explained that she would break her specimens 
easily, carrying them around in boxes. He had seen these and 
thought they would be of use. Elnora was delighted with them, 
and at once began the tedious process of softening the mounted 
moths and fitting them to the casts molded to receive them. Her 
time was so taken in school, she progressed slowly, so her mother 
undertook this work. After trying one or two very common ones 
she learned to handle the most delicate with ease. She took keen 
pride in relaxing the tense moths, fitting them to the cases, polish- 
ing the glass covers to the last degree and sealing them. The 
results were beautiful to behold. 

Soon after Elnora wrote to Philip : 

Dear Friend: 

I am writing to thank you for the books, and the box of con- 
veniences sent me for my work. I can use everything with fine re- 
sults. Hope I am giving good satisfaction in my position. You will 
be interested to learn that when the summer’s work was classified 
and pinned, I again had my complete collection for the man of 
India, save a Yellow Emperor. I have tried everywhere I know, so 
has the Bird Woman. We cannot find a pair for sale. Fate is against 
me, at least this season. I shall have to wait until next year and try 
again. 

Thank you very much for helping me with my collection and for 
the books and cases. 

Sincerely yours, 

Elnora Comstock. 

Philip was disappointed over that note and instead of keeping 
it he tore it into bits and dropped them into the wastebasket. 

That was precisely what Elnora had intended he should do. 
Christmas brought beautiful cards of greeting to Mrs. Comstock 
and Elnora, Easter others, and the year ran rapidly toward spring. 
Elnora’s position had been intensely absorbing, while she had 
worked with all her power. She had made a wonderful success 


EXPERIMENTS WITH REJUVENATION 247 

and won new friends. Mrs. Comstock had helped in every way she 
could, so she was very popular also. 

Throughout the winter they had enjoyed the city thoroughly, 
and the change of life it afforded, but signs of spring did wonder- 
ful things to the hearts of the country-bred women. A restlessness 
began on bright February days, calmed during March storms and 
attacked full force in April. When neither could bear it any longer 
they were forced to discuss the matter and admit they were grow- 
ing ill with pure homesickness. They decided to keep the city 
house during the summer, but to return to the farm to live as soon 
as school closed. 

So Mrs. Comstock would prepare breakfast and lunch and then 
slip away to the farm to make up beds in her plowed garden, 
plant seeds, trim and tend her flowers, and prepare the cabin for 
occupancy. Then she would go home and make the evening as 
cheerful as possible for Elnora; in these days she lived only for 
the girl. 

Both of them were glad when the last of May came and the 
schools closed. They packed the books and clothing they wished 
to take into a wagon and walked across the fields to the old cabin. 
As they approached it, Mrs. Comstock said to Elnora: “You are 
sure you won’t be lonely here?” 

Elnora knew what she really meant. 

“Quite sure,” she said. “For a time last fall I was glad to be 
away, but that all wore out with the winter. Spring made me 
homesick as I could be. I can scarcely wait until we get back 
again.” 

So they began that summer as they had begun all others — with 
work. But both of them took a new joy in everything, and the 
violin sang by the hour in the twilight. 


CHAPTER XIX 


Wherein Philip Ammon Gives a Ball 
in Honor of Edith Carr, and Hart 
Henderson Appears on the Scene 


Edith Carr stood in a vine-enclosed side veranda of the Lake 
Shore Club House waiting while Philip Ammon gave some im- 
portant orders. In a few days she would sail for Paris to select a 
wonderful trousseau she had planned for her marriage in October. 
Tonight Philip was giving a club dance in her honor. He had 
spent days in devising new and exquisite effects in decorations, 
entertainment, and supper. Weeks before the favored guests had 
been notified. Days before they had received the invitations ask- 
ing them to participate in this entertainment by Philip Ammon 
in honor of Miss Carr. They spoke of it as “Phil’s dance for 
Edith!” 

She could hear the rumble of carriages and the panting of auto- 
mobiles as in a steady stream they rolled to the front entrance. 
She could catch glimpses of floating draperies of gauze and lace, 
the flash of jewels, and the passing of exquisite color. Everyone 
was newly arrayed in her honor in the loveliest clothing, and the 
most expensive jewels they could command. As she thought of it 
she lifted her head a trifle higher and her eyes flashed proudly. 

She was robed in a French creation suggested and designed by 
Philip. He had said to her: “I know a competent judge who says 
the distinctive feature of June is her exquisite big night moths. 
I want you to be the very essence of June that night, as you will 
be the embodiment of love. Be a moth. The most beautiful of 


PHILIP AMMON GIVES A BALL 249 

them is either the pale-green Luna or the Yellow Imperialis. Be 
my moon lady, or my gold Empress.” 

He took her to the museum and showed her the moths. She 
instantly decided on the yellow because she knew the shades 
would make her more startlingly beautiful than any other color. 
To him she said: “A moon lady seems so far away and cold. I 
would be of earth and very near on that night. I choose th< 
Empress.” 

So she matched the colors exactly, wrote out the idea and 
forwarded the order to Paquin. Tonight when Philip Ammon 
came for her, he stood speechless a minute and then silently 
kissed her hands. 

For she stood tall, lithe, of grace inborn, her dark waving hair 
high piled and crossed by gold bands studded with amethyst and 
at one side an enameled lavender orchid rimmed with diamonds, 
which flashed and sparkled. The soft yellow robe of lightest weight 
velvet fitted her form perfectly, while from each shoulder fell a 
great velvet wing lined with lavender, and flecked with embroi- 
dery of that color in imitation of the moth. Around her throat 
was a wonderful necklace and on her arms were bracelets of gold 
set with amethyst and rimmed with diamonds. Philip had said 
that her gloves, fan, and slippers must be lavender, because the 
feet of the moth were that color. These accessories had been made 
to order and embroidered with gold. It had been arranged that 
her mother, Philip’s, and a few best friends should receive his 
guests. She was to appear when she led the grand march with 
Philip Ammon. Miss Carr was positive that she would be the most 
beautiful, and most exquisitely gowned woman present. In her 
heart she thought of herself as “Imperialis Regalis,” as the Yellow 
Empress. In a few moments she would stun her world into feeling 
it as Philip Ammon had done, for she had taken pains that the 
history of her costume should be whispered to a few who would 
give it circulation. She lifted her head proudly and waited, for was 
not Philip planning something unusual and unsurpassed in her 
honor? Then she smiled. 

But of all the fragmentary thoughts crossing her brain the one 
that never came was that of Philip Ammon as the Emperor. Philip 


250 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

the king of her heart; at least her equal in all things. She was the 
Empress — yes, Philip was but a mere man, to devise entertain- 
ments, to provide luxuries, to humor whims, to kiss hands ! 

“Ah, my luck!” cried a voice behind her. 

Edith Carr turned and smiled. 

“I thought you were on the ocean,” she said. 

“I only reached the dock,” replied the man, “when I had a 
letter that recalled me by the first limited.” 

“Oh ! Important business?” 

“The only business of any importance in all the world to me. 
I’m triumphant that I came. Edith, you are the most superb 
woman in every respect that I have ever seen. One glimpse is 
worth the whole journey.” 

“You like my dress?” She moved toward him and turned, lift- 
ing her arms. “Do you know what it is intended to represent?” 

“Yes, Polly Ammon told me. I knew when I heard about it how 
you would look, so I started a sleuth hunt, to get the first peep. 
Edith, I can become intoxicated merely with looking at you 
tonight.” 

He half-closed his eyes and smilingly stared straight at her. He 
was taller than she, a lean man, with close-cropped light hair, 
steel-gray eyes, a square chin and “man of the world” written all 
over him. 

Edith Carr flushed. “I thought you realized when you went 
away that you were to stop that, Hart Henderson,” she cried. 

“I did, but this letter of which I tell you called me back to 
start it all over again.” 

She came a step closer. “Who wrote that letter, and what did 
it contain concerning me?” she demanded. 

“One of your most intimate chums wrote it. It contained the 
hazard that possibly I had given up too soon. It said that in a fit 
of petulance you had broken your engagement with Ammon twice 
this winter, and he had come back because he knew you did not 
really mean it. I thought deeply there on the dock when I read 
that, and my boat sailed without me. I argued that anything so 
weak as an engagement twice broken and patched up again was 
a mighty frail affair indeed, and likely to smash completely at 


PHILIP AMMON GIVES A BALL 25I 

any time, so I came on the run. I said once I would not see you 
marry any other man. Because I could not bear it, I planned to 
go into exile of any sort to escape that. I have changed my mind. 
I have come back to haunt you until the ceremony is over. Then 
I go, not before. I was insane!” 

The girl laughed merrily. “Not half so insane as you are now, 
Hart!” she cried gaily. “You know that Philip Ammon has been 
devoted to me all my life. Now I’ll tell you something else, be- 
cause this looks serious for you. I love him with all my heart. 
Not while he lives shall he know it, and I will laugh at him if 
you tell him, but the fact remains : I intend to marry him, but no 
doubt I shall tease him constantly. It’s good for a man to be un- 
certain. If you could see Philip’s face at the quarterly return of 
his ring, you would understand the fun of it. You had better have 
taken your boat.” 

“Possibly,” said Henderson calmly. “But you are the only 
woman in the world for me, and while you are free, as I now see 
my light, I remain near you. You know the old adage.” 

“But I’m not ‘free’!” cried Edith Carr. “I’m telling you I am 
not. This night is my public acknowledgment that Phil and I are 
promised, as our world has surmised since we were children. That 
promise is an actual fact, because of what I just have told you. 
My little fits of temper don’t count with Phil. He’s been reared on 
them. In fact, I often invent one in a perfect calm to see him 
perform. He is the most amusing spectacle. But, please, please, do 
understand that I love him, and always shall, and that we shall 
be married.” 

“Just the same, I’ll wait and see it an accomplished fact,” said 
Henderson. “And Edith, because I love you, with the sort of love 
it is worth a woman’s while to inspire, I want your happiness be- 
fore my own. So I am going to say this to you, for I never 
dreamed you were capable of the feeling you have displayed for 
Phil. If you do love him, and have loved him always, a disap- 
pointment would cut you deeper than you know. Go careful from 
now on! Don’t strain that patched engagement of yours any 
further. I’ve known Philip all my life. I’ve known him through 
boyhood, in college, and since. All men respect him. Where the 


252 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

rest of us confess our sins, he stands clean. You can go to his arms 
with nothing to forgive. Mark this thing! I have heard him say, 
‘Edith is my slogan/ and I have seen him march home strong in 
the strength of his love for you, in the face of temptations before 
which every other man of us fell. Before the gods ! that ought to 
be worth something to a girl, if she really is the delicate, sensi- 
tive, refined thing she would have man believe. It would take a 
woman with the organism of an ostrich to endure some of the 
men here tonight, if she knew them as I do; but Phil is sound to 
the core. So this is what I would say to you : first, your instincts 
are right in loving him, why not let him feel it in the ways a 
woman knows? Second, don’t break your engagement again. As 
men know the man, any of us would be afraid to the soul. He 
loves you, yes! He is long-suffering for you, yes! But men know 
he has a limit. When the limit is reached, he will stand fast, and 
all the powers can’t move him. You don’t seem to think it, but 
you can go too far!” 

“Is that all?” laughed Edith Carr sarcastically. 

“No, there is one thing more,” said Henderson. “Here or 
hereafter, now and so long as I breathe, I am your slave. You 
can do anything you choose and know that I will kneel before 
you again. So carry this in the depths of your heart; now or at 
any time, in any place or condition, merely lift your hand, and 
I will come. Anything you want of me, that thing will I do. I am 
going to wait ; if you need me, it is not necessary to speak ; only 
give me the faintest sign. All your life I will be somewhere near 
you waiting for it.” 

“Idjit! You rave!” laughed Edith Carr. “How you would 
frighten me! What a bugbear you would raise! Be sensible and 
go find what keeps Phil. I was waiting patiently, but my pa- 
tience is going. I won’t look nearly so well as I do now when it 
is gone.” 

At that instant Philip Ammon entered. He was in full evening 
dress and exceptionally handsome. “Everything is ready,” he 
said. “They are waiting for us to lead the march. It is formed.” 

Edith Carr smiled entrancingly. “Do you think I am ready?” 

Philip looked what he thought, and offered his arm. Edith 


PHILIP AMMON GIVES A BALL 253 

Carr nodded carelessly to Hart Henderson, and moved away. 
Attendants parted the curtains and the Yellow Empress bowing 
right and left, swept the length of the ballroom and took her 
place at the head of the formed procession. The large open danc- 
ing pavilion was draped with yellow silk caught up with lilac 
flowers. Every corner was filled with bloom of those colors. The 
music was played by harpers dressed in yellow and violet, so the 
ball opened. 

The midnight supper was served with the same colors and 
the last half of the programme was being danced. Never had girl 
been more complimented and petted in the same length of time 
than Edith Carr. Every minute she seemed to grow more worthy 
of praise. A partners’ dance was called and the floor was filled 
with couples waiting for the music. Philip stood whispering de- 
lightful things to Edith facing him. From out of the night, in at 
the wide front entrance to the pavilion, there swept in slow wa- 
vering flight a large yellow moth and fluttered toward the center 
cluster of glaring electric lights. Philip Ammon and Edith Carr 
saw it at the same instant. 

“Why, isn’t that ?” she began excitedly. 

“It’s a Yellow Emperor! This is fate!” cried Philip. “The last 
one Elnora needs for her collection. I must have it! Excuse me!” 

He ran toward the light. “Hats! Handkerchiefs! Fans! Any- 
thing!” he panted. “Everyone hold up something and stop that! 
It’s a moth; I’ve got to catch it!” 

“It’s yellow! He wants it for Edith!” ran in a murmur around 
the hall. The girl’s face flushed, while she bit her lip in vexation. 

Instantly everyone began holding up something to keep the 
moth from flying back into the night. One fan held straight be- 
fore it served, and the moth gently settled on it. 

“Hold steady!” cried Philip. “Don’t move for your life!” He 
rushed toward the moth, made a quick sweep and held it up be- 
tween his fingers. “All right!” he called. “Thanks, everyone! 
Excuse me a minute.” 

He ran to the office. 

“An ounce of gasoline, quick!” he ordered. “A cigar box, a 
cork, and the glue bottle.” 


254 A GIRL of the limberlost 

He poured some glue into the bottom of the box, set the cork in 
it firmly, dashed the gasoline over the moth repeatedly, pinned 
it to the cork, poured the remainder of the liquid over it, closed 
the box, and fastened it. Then he laid a bill on the counter. 

“Pack that box with cork around it, in one twice its size, tie 
securely and express to this address at once.” 

He scribbled on a sheet of paper and shoved it over. 

“On your honor, will you do that faithfully as I say?” he 
asked the clerk. 

“Certainly,” was the reply. 

“Then keep the change,” called Philip as he ran back to the 
pavilion. 

Edith Carr stood where he left her, thinking rapidly. She heard 
the murmur that arose when Philip started to capture the exqui- 
site golden creature she was impersonating. She saw the flash of 
surprise that went over unrestrained faces when he ran from the 
room, without even showing it to her. “The last one Elnora 
needs,” rang in her ears. He had told her that he helped collect 
moths the previous summer, but she had understood that the 
Bird Woman, with whose work Miss Carr was familiar, wanted 
them to put in a book. 

He had spoken of a country girl he had met who played the 
violin wonderfully, and at times, he had shown a disposition to 
exalt her as a standard of womanhood. Miss Carr had ignored 
what he said, and talked of something else. But that girl’s name 
had been Elnora. It was she who was collecting moths ! No doubt 
she was the competent judge who was responsible for the yellow 
costume Philip had devised. Had Edith Carr been in her room, 
she would have tom off the dress at the thought. 

Being in a circle of her best friends, which to her meant her 
keenest rivals and harshest critics, she grew rigid with anger. Her 
breath hurt her paining chest. No one thought to speak to the 
musicians, and seeing the floor filled, they began the waltz. Only 
part of the guests could see what had happened, and at once the 
others formed and commenced to dance. Gay couples came whirl- 
ing past her. 

Edith Carr grew very white as she stood alone. Her lips turned 


PHILIP AMMON GIVES A BALL 255 

pale, while her dark eyes flamed with anger. She stood perfectly 
still where Philip had left her, and the approaching men guided 
their partners around her, while the girls, looking back, could be 
seen making exclamations of surprise. 

The idolized only daughter of the Carr family hoped that she 
would drop dead from mortification, but nothing happened. She 
was too perverse to step aside and say that she was waiting for 
Philip. Then came Tom Levering dancing with Polly Ammon. 
Being in the scales with the Ammon family, Tom scented trouble 
from afar, so he whispered to Polly: “Edith is standing in the 
middle of the floor, and she’s awful mad about something.” 

“That won’t hurt her,” laughed Polly. “It’s an old pose of hers. 
She knows she looks superb when she is angry, so she keeps her- 
self furious half the time on purpose.” 

“She looks like the mischief!” answered Tom. “Hadn’t wc 
better steer over and wait with her? She’s the ugliest sight I ever 
saw!” 

“Why, Tom!” cried Polly. “Stop, quickly!” 

They hurried to Edith. 

“Come, dear,” said Polly. “We are going to wait with you until 
Phil returns. Let’s go after a drink. I am so thirsty!” 

“Yes, do!” begged Tom, offering his arm. “Let’s get out of 
here until Phil comes.” 

There was the opportunity to laugh and walk away, but Edith 
Carr would not accept it. 

“My betrothed left me here,” she said. “Here I shall remain 
until he returns for me, and then — he will be my betrothed no 
longer!” 

Polly grasped Edith’s arm. 

“Oh, Edith!” she implored. “Don’t make a scene here, and 
tonight. Edith, this has been the loveliest dance ever given at the 
club house. Everyone is saying so, Edith! Darling, do come! Phil 
will be back in a second. He can explain ! It’s only a breath since 
I saw him go out. I thought he had returned.” 

As Polly panted these disjointed ejaculations, Tom Levering 
began to grow angry on her account. 

“He has been gone just long enough to show every one of his 


256 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

guests that he will leave me standing alone, like a neglected fool, 
for any passing whim of his. Explain! His explanation would 
sound well! Do you know for whom he caught that moth? It is 
being sent to a girl he flirted with all last summer. It has just 
occurred to me that the dress I am wearing is her suggestion. Let 
him try to explain!” 

Speech unloosed the fountain. She stripped off her gloves to 
free her hands. At that instant the dancers parted to admit Philip. 
Instinctively they stopped as they approached and with wonder- 
ing faces walled in Edith and Philip, Polly and Tom. 

“Mighty good of you to wait!” cried Philip, his face showing 
his delight over his success in capturing the Yellow Emperor. “I 
thought when I heard the music you were going on.” 

“How did you think I was going on?” demanded Edith Carr 
in frigid tones. 

“I thought you would step aside and wait a few seconds for 
me, or dance with Henderson. It was most important to have that 
moth. It completes a valuable collection for a person who needs 
the money. Come!” 

He held out his arms. 

“I ‘step aside’ for no one!” stormed Edith Carr. “I await no 
other girl’s pleasure! You may ‘complete the collection’ with 
that!” 

She drew her engagement ring from her finger and reached to 
place it on one of Philip’s outstretched hands. He saw and drew 
back. Instantly Edith dropped the ring. As it fell, almost in- 
stinctively Philip caught it in air. With amazed face he looked 
closely at Edith Carr. Her distorted features were scarcely recog- 
nizable. He held the ring toward her. 

“Edith, for the love of mercy, wait until I can explain,” he 
begged. “Put on your ring and let me tell you how it is.” 

“I know perfectly ‘how it is,’ ” she answered. “I never shall 
wear that ring again.” 

“You won’t even hear what I have to say? You won’t take 
back your ring?” he cried. 

“Never! Your conduct is infamous!” 

“Come to think of it,” said Philip deliberately, “it is ‘infamous’ 


PHILIP AMMON GIVES A BALL 257 

to cut a girl, who has danced all her life, out of a few measures 
of a waltz. As for asking forgiveness for so black a sin as picking 
up a moth, and starting it to a friend who lives by collecting them, 
I don’t see how I could ! I have not been gone three minutes by 
the clock, Edith. Put on your ring and finish the dance like a dear 
girl” 

He thrust the glittering ruby into her fingers and again held 
out his arms. She dropped the ring, and it rolled some distance 
from them. Hart Henderson followed its shining course, and 
caught it before it was lost. 

“You really mean it?” demanded Philip in a voice as cold as 
hers ever had been. 

“You know I mean it!” cried Edith Carr. 

“I accept your decision in the presence of these witnesses,” 
said Philip Ammon. “Where is my father?” The elder Ammon 
with a distressed face hurried to him. “Father, take my place,” 
said Philip. “Excuse me to my guests. Ask all my friends to for- 
give me. I am going away for awhile.” 

He turned and walked from the pavilion. As he went Hart 
Henderson rushed to Edith Carr and forced the ring into her 
fingers. “Edith, quick. Come, quick !” he implored. “There’s just 
time to catch him. If you let him go that way, he never will re- 
turn in this world. Remember what I told you.” 

“Great prophet, aren’t you, Hart?” she sneered. “Who wants 
him to return? If that ring is thrust upon me again I shall fling it 
into the lake. Signal the musicians to begin, and dance with me.” 

Henderson put the ring into his pocket, and began the dance. 
He could feel the muscular spasms of the girl in his arms, her face 
was cold and hard, but her breath burned with the scorch of 
fever. She finished the dance and all others, taking Phil’s num- 
bers with Henderson, who had arrived too late to arrange a pro- 
gram. She left with the others, merely inclining her head as 
she passed Ammon’s father taking his place, and entered the big 
touring car for which Henderson had telephoned. She sank limply 
into a seat and moaned softly. 

“Shall I drive awhile in the night air?” asked Henderson. 

She nodded. He instructed the chauffeur. 


258 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

She raised her head in a few seconds. “Hart, I’m going to 
pieces,” she said. “Won’t you put your arm around me a little 
while?” 

Henderson gathered her into his arms and her head fell on his 
shoulder. “Closer!” she cried. 

Henderson held her until his arms were numb, but he did not 
know it. The tricks of fate are cruel enough, but there scarcely 
could have been a worse one than that : To care for a woman as 
he loved Edith Carr and have her given into his arms because 
she was so numb with misery over her trouble with another man 
that she did not know or care what she did. Dawn was streaking 
the east when he spoke to her. 

“Edith, it is growing light.” 

“Take me home,” she said. 

Henderson helped her up the steps and rang the bell. 

“Miss Carr is ill,” he said to the footman. “Arouse her maid 
instantly, and have her prepare something hot as quickly as pos- 
sible.” 

“Edith,” he cried, “just a word. I have been thinking. It isn’t 
too late yet. Take your ring and put it on. I will go find Phil at 
once and tell him you have, that you are expecting him, and he 
will come.” 

“Think what he said!” she cried. “He accepted my decision as 
final, ‘in the presence of witnesses,’ as if it were court. He can 
return it to me, if I ever wear it again.” 

“You think that now, but in a few days you will find that you 
feel very differently. Living a life of heartache is no joke, and 
no job for a woman. Put on your ring and send me to tell him to 
come.” 

“No.” 

“Edith, there was not a soul who saw that, but sympathized 
with Phil. It was ridiculous for you to get so angry over a thing 
which was never intended for the slightest offence, and by no 
logical reasoning could have been so considered.” 

“Do you think that?” she demanded. 

“I do!” said Henderson. “If you had laughed and stepped 
aside an instant, or laughed and stayed where you were, Phil 


PHILIP AMMON GIVES A BALL 259 

would have been back; or, if he needed punishment in your eyes, 
to have found me having one of his dances would have been 
enough. I was waiting. You could have called me with one look. 
But to publicly do and say what you did, my lady — I know Phil, 
and I know you went too far. Put on that ring, and send him 
word you are sorry, before it is too late.” 

“I will not ! He shall come to me.” 

“Then God help you !” said Henderson, “for you are plunging 
into misery whose depth you do not dream. Edith, I beg of 
you ” 

She swayed where she stood. Her maid opened the door and 
caught her. Henderson went down the hall and out to his car. 


CHAPTER XX 


Wherein the Elder Ammon Offers Advice, 
and Edith Carr Experiences Regrets 


Philip Ammon walked from among his friends a humiliated and 
a wounded man. Never before had Edith Carr appeared quite 
so beautiful. All evening she had treated him with unusual con- 
sideration. Never had he loved her so deeply. Then in a few 
seconds everything was different. Seeing the change in her face, 
and hearing her meaningless accusations, killed something in 
his heart. Warmth went out and a cold weight took its place. But 
even after that, he had offered the ring to her again, and asked 
her before others to reconsider. The answer had been further in- 
sult. 

He walked, paying no heed to where he went. He had trav- 
ersed many miles when he became aware that his feet had chosen 
familiar streets. He was passing his home. Dawn was near, but 
the first floor was lighted. He staggered up the steps and was 
instantly admitted. The library door stood open, while his father 
sat with a book pretending to read. At Philip’s entrance the 
father scarcely glanced up. 

“Come on!” he called. “I have just told Banks to bring me a 
cup of coffee before I turn in. Have one with me!” 

Philip sat beside the table and leaned his head on his hands, 
but he drank a cup of steaming coffee and felt better. 

“Father,” he said, “father, may I talk with you a little while?” 

“Of course,” answered Mr. Ammon. “I am not at all tired. 
I think I must have been waiting in the hope that you would 


THE ELDER AMMON OFFERS ADVICE 26l 

come. I want no one’s version of this but yours. Tell me the 
straight of the thing, Phil.” 

Philip told all he knew, while his father sat in deep thought. 

“On my life I can’t see any occasion for such a display of tem- 
per, Phil. It passed all bounds of reason and breeding. Can’t you 
think of anything more?” 

“I cannot!” 

“Polly says everyone expected you to carry the moth you 
caught to Edith. Why didn’t you?” 

“She screams if a thing of that kind comes near her. She never 
has taken the slightest interest in them. I was in a big hurry. I 
didn’t want to miss one minute of my dance with her. The moth 
was not so uncommon, but by a combination of bad luck it had 
become the rarest in America for a friend of mine, who is making 
a collection to pay college expenses. For an instant last June the 
series was completed; when a woman’s uncontrolled temper 
ruined this specimen and the search for it began over. A few days 
later a pair was secured, and again the money was in sight for 
several hours. Then an accident wrecked one-fourth of the col- 
lection. I helped replace those last June, all but this Yellow 
Emperor which we could not secure, and we haven’t been able 
to find, buy or trade for one since. So my friend was compelled to 
teach this past winter instead of going to college. When that moth 
came flying in there tonight, it seemed to me like fate. All I 
thought of was, that to secure it would complete the collection 
and secure the money. So I caught the Emperor and started it 
to Elnora. I declare to you that I was not out of the pavilion over 
three minutes at a liberal estimate. If I only had thought to 
speak to the orchestra ! I was sure I would be back before enough 
couples gathered and formed for the dance.” 

The eyes of the father were very bright. 

“The friend for whom you wanted the moth is a girl?” he 
asked indifferently, as he ran the book leaves through his fingers. 

“The girl of whom I wrote you last summer, and told you 
about in the fall. I helped her all the time I was away.” 

“Did Edith know of her?” 

“I tried many times to tell her, to interest her, but she was 


262 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

so indifferent that it was insulting. She would not hear me.” 

“We are neither one in any condition to sleep. Why don’t you 
begin at the first and tell me about this girl? To think of other 
matters for a time may clear our vision for a sane solution of this. 
Who is she, just what is she doing, and what is she like? You 
know I was reared among those Limberlost people, I can under- 
stand readily. What is her name and where does she live?” 

Philip gave a man’s version of the previous summer, while his 
father played with the book industriously. 

“You are very sure as to her refinement and education?” 

“In almost two months’ daily association, could a man be mis- 
taken? She can far and away surpass Polly, Edith, or any girl of 
our set on any common, high school, or supplementary branch, 
and you know high schools have French, German, and physics 
now. Besides, she is a graduate of two other institutions. All her 
life she has been in the school of Hard Knocks. She has the big- 
gest, tenderest, most human heart I ever knew in a girl. She has 
known life in its most cruel phases, and instead of hardening her, 
it has set her trying to save other people suffering. Then this 
nature position of which I told you ; she graduated in the School 
of the Woods, before she secured that. The Bird Woman, whose 
work you know, helped her there. Elnora knows more interesting 
things in a minute than any other girl I ever met knew in an hour, 
provided you are a person who cares to understand plant and 
animal life.” 

The book leaves slid rapidly through his fingers as the father 
drawled : “What sort of looking girl is she?” 

“Tall as Edith, a little heavier, pink, even complexion, wide 
open blue-gray eyes with heavy black brows, and lashes so long 
they touch her cheeks. She has a rope of waving, shining hair 
that makes a real crown on her head, and it appears almost red in 
the light. She is as handsome as any fair woman I ever saw, but 
she doesn’t know it. Every time anyone pays her a compliment, 
her mother, who is a caution, discovers that, for some reason, the 
girl is a fright, so she has no appreciation of her looks.” 

“And you were in daily association two months with a girl like 
that ! How about it«> Phil?” 


THE ELDER AMMON OFFERS ADVICE 263 

“If you mean, did I trifle with her, no!” cried Philip hotly. “I 
told her the second time I met her all about Edith. Almost every 
day I wrote to Edith in her presence. Elnora gathered violets 
and made a fancy basket to put them in for Edith’s birthday. 
I started to err in too open admiration for Elnora, but her mother 
brought me up with a whirl I never forgot. Fifty times a day in 
the swamps and forests Elnora made a perfect picture, but I 
neither looked nor said anything. I never met any girl so down- 
right noble in bearing and actions. I never hated anything as I 
hated leaving her, for we were dear friends, like two wholly con- 
genial men. Her mother was almost always with us. She knew 
how much I admired Elnora, but so long as I concealed it from 
the girl, the mother did not care.” 

“Yet you left such a girl and came back wholehearted to 
Edith Carr!” 

“Surely ! You know how it has been with me about Edith all 
my life.” 

“Yet the girl you picture is far her superior to an unprejudiced 
person, when thinking what a man would require in a wife to be 
happy.” 

“I never have thought what I would ‘require 5 to be happy! 
I only thought whether I could make Edith happy. I have been 
an idiot! What I’ve borne you’ll never know! Tonight is only 
one of many outbursts like that, in varying and lesser degrees . 55 

“Phil, I love you, when you say you have thought only of 
Edith! I happen to know that it is true. You are my only son, 
and I have had a right to watch you closely. I believe you utterly. 
Anyone who cares for you as I do, and has had my years of ex- 
perience in this world over yours, knows that in some ways, to- 
night would be a blessed release, if you could take it; but you 
cannot! Go to bed now, and rest. Tomorrow, go back to her 
and fix it up.” 

“You heard what I said when I left her ! I said it because some- 
thing in my heart died a minute before that, and I realized that 
it was my love for Edith Carr. Never again will I voluntarily face 
such a scene. If she can act like that at a ball, before hundreds, 
over a thing of which I thought nothing at all, she would go into 


264 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

actual physical fits and spasms, over some of the household crises 
I’ve seen the mater meet with a smile. Sir, it is truth that I have 
thought only of her up to the present. Now, I will admit I am 
thinking about myself. Father, did you see her? Life is too short, 
and it can be too sweet, to throw it away in a battle with an unre- 
strained woman. I am no fighter — where a girl is concerned, any- 
way. I respect and love her or I do nothing. Never again is either 
respect or love possible between me and Edith Carr. Whenever I 
think of her in the future, I will see her as she was tonight. But 
I can’t face the crowd just yet. Could you spare me a few days?” 

“It is only ten days until you were to go north for the sum- 
mer, go now.” 

“I don’t want to go north. I don’t want to meet people I 
know. There, the story would precede me. I do not need pitying 
glances or rough condolences. I wonder if I could not hide at 
Uncle Ed’s in Wisconsin for awhile?” 

The book closed suddenly. The father leaned across the table 
and looked into the son’s eyes. 

“Phil, are you sure of what you just have said?” 

“Perfectly sure !” 

“Do you think you are in any condition to decide tonight?” 

“Death cannot return to life, father. My love for Edith Carr 
is dead. I hope never to see her again.” 

“If I thought you could be certain so soon ! But, come to think 
of it, you are very like me in many ways. I am with you in this. 
Public scenes and disgraces I would not endure. It would be over 
with me, were I in your position, that I know.” 

“It is done for all time,” said Philip Ammon. “Let us not 
speak of it further.” 

“Then, Phil,” the father leaned closer and looked at the son 
tenderly, “Phil, why don’t you go to the Limberlost?” 

“Father!” 

“Why not? No one can comfort a hurt heart like a tender 
woman ; and, Phil, have you ever stopped to think that you may 
have a duty in the Limberlost, if you are free? I don’t know! I 
only suggest it. But, for a country schoolgirl, unaccustomed to 
men, two months with a man like you might well awaken feel- 


THE ELDER AMMON OFFERS ADVICE 265 

ings of which you dc not think. Because you were safeguarded 
is no sign the girl was. She might care to see you. You can soon 
tell. With you, she comes next to Edith, and you have made it 
clear to me that you appreciate her in many ways above. So I re- 
peat it, why not go to the Limberlost?” 

A long time Philip Ammon sat in deep thought. At last he 
raised his head. 

“Well, why not!” he said. “Years could make me no surer 
than I am now, and life is short. Please ask Banks to get me 
some coffee and toast, and I will bathe and dress so I can take 
the early train.” 

“Go to your bath. I will attend to your packing and every- 
thing. And Phil, if I were you, I would leave no addresses.” 

“Not an address!” said Philip. “Not even Polly.” 

When the train pulled out, the elder Ammon went home to find 
Hart Henderson waiting. 

“Where is Phil?” he demanded. 

“He did not feel like facing his friends at present, and I am 
just back from driving him to the station. He said he might go to 
Siam, or Patagonia. He would leave no address.” 

Henderson almost staggered. “He’s not gone? And left no ad- 
dress? You don’t mean it! He’ll never forgive her!” 

“Never is a long time, Hart,” said Mr. Ammon. “And it seems 
even longer to those of us who are well acquainted with Phil. 
Last night was not the last straw. It was the whole straw-stack. It 
crushed Phil so far as she is concerned. He will not see her again 
voluntarily, and he will not forget if he does. You can take it 
from him, and from me, we have accepted the lady’s decision. 
Will you have a cup of coffee?” 

Twice Henderson opened his lips to speak of Edith Carr’s 
despair. Twice he looked into the stem, inflexible face of Mr. 
Ammon and could not betray her. He held out the ring. 

“I have no instructions as to that,” said the elder Ammon, 
drawing back. “Possibly Miss Carr would have it as a keepsake.” 

“I am sure not,” said Henderson curtly. 

“Then suppose you return it to Peacock. I will ’phone him. 
He will give you the price of it, and you might add it to the chil- 


266 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

dren’s Fresh Air Fund. We would be obliged if you would do 
that. No one here cares to handle the object. 5 ’ 

“As you choose, 55 said Henderson. “Good morning! 55 

Then he went to his home, but he could not think of sleep. 
He ordered breakfast, but he could not eat. He paced the library 
for a time, but it was too small. Going on the streets he walked 
until exhausted, then he called a hansom and was driven to his 
club. He had thought himself familiar with every depth of suf- 
fering; that night had taught him that what he felt for himself was 
not to be compared with the anguish which wrung his heart over 
the agony of Edith Carr. He tried to blame Philip Ammon, but 
being an honest man, Henderson knew that was unjust. The fault 
lay wholly with her, but that only made it harder for him, as he 
realized it would in time for her. As he sauntered into the room 
an attendant hurried to him. 

“You are wanted most urgently at the ’phone, Mr. Hender- 
son, 55 he said. “You have had three calls from Main 5770.” 

Henderson shivered as he picked down the receiver and gave 
the call. 

“Is that you, Hart?” came Edith’s voice. 

“Yes.” 

“Did you find Phil?” 

“No.” 

“Did you try?” 

“Yes. As soon as I left you I went straight there.” 

“Wasn’t he home yet?” 

“He has been home and gone again.” 

“Gone!” 

The cry tore Henderson’s heart. 

“Shall I come and tell you, Edith?” 

“No! Tell me now.” 

“When I reached the house Banks said Mr. Ammon and Phil 
were out in the motor, so I waited. Mr. Ammon came back soon. 
Edith, are you alone?” 

“Yes. Go on!” 

“Call your maid. I can’t tell you until someone is with you.” 

“Tell me instantly!” 


THE ELDER AMMON OFFERS ADVICE 267 

“Edith, he said he had been to the station. He said Phil had 
started to Siam or Patagonia, he didn’t know which, and left no 
address. He said ” 

Distinctly Henderson heard her fall. He set the buzzer ringing, 
and in a few seconds heard voices, so he knew she had been found. 
Then he crept into a private den and shook with a hard, nervous 
chill. 

The next day Edith Carr started on her trip to Europe. Hen- 
derson felt certain she hoped to meet Philip there. He was sure 
she would be disappointed, though he had no idea where Am- 
mon could have gone. But after much thought he decided he 
would see Edith soonest by remaining at home, so he spent the 
summer in Chicago. 


CHAPTER XXI 


Wherein Philip Ammon Returns 
to the Limberlost, and Elnora Studies 
the Situation 


“We must be thinking about supper, mother,” said Elnora, while 
she set the wings of a Cecropia with much care. “It seems as if I 
can’t get enough to eat, or enough of being at home. I enjoyed 
that city house. I don’t believe I could have done my work if I 
had been compelled to walk back and forth. I thought at first 
I never wanted to come here again. Now, I feel as if I could not 
live anywhere else.” 

“Elnora,” said Mrs. Comstock, “there’s someone coming down 
the road.” 

“Coming here, do you think?” 

“Yes, coming here, I suspect.” 

Elnora glanced quickly at her mother and then turned to the 
road as Philip Ammon reached the gate. 

“Careful, mother!” the girl instantly warned. “If you change 
your treatment of him a hair’s breadth, he will suspect. Come 
with me to meet him.” 

She dropped her work and sprang up. 

“Well, of all the delightful surprises!” she cried. 

She was a trifle thinner than during the previous summer. On 
her face there was a more mature, patient look, but the sun 
struck her bare head with the same ray of red gold. She wore 
one of the old blue gingham dresses, open at the throat and rolled 
to the elbows. Mrs. Comstock did not appear at all the same 


PHILIP AMMON RETURNS 269 

woman, but Philip saw only Elnora; heard only her greeting. He 
caught both hands where she offered but one. 

“Elnora,” he cried, “if you were engaged to me, and we were 
at a ball, among hundreds, where I offended you very much, and 
didn’t even know I had done anything, and if I asked you be- 
fore all of them to allow me to explain, to forgive me, to wait, 
would your face grow distorted and unfamiliar with anger? 
Would you drop my ring on the floor and insult me repeatedly? 
Oh, Elnora, would you?” 

Elnora’s big eyes seemed to leap, while her face grew very 
white. She drew away her hands. 

“Hush, Phil ! Hush !” she protested. “That fever has you again! 
You are dreadfully ill. You don’t know what you are saying.” 

“I am sleepless and exhausted; I’m heartsick; but I am well 
as I ever was. Answer me, Elnora, would you?” 

“Answer nothing!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “Answer nothing! 
Hang your coat there on your nail, Phil, and come split some 
kindling. Elnora, clean away that stuff, and set the table. Can’t 
you see the boy is starved and tired? He’s come home to rest and 
eat a decent meal. Come on, Phil!” 

Mrs. Comstock marched away, and Philip hung his coat 
in its old place and followed. Out of sight and hearing she turned 
on him. 

“Do you call yourself a man or a hound?” she flared. 

“I beg your pardon ” stammered Philip Ammon. 

“I should think you would!” she ejaculated. “I’ll admit you 
did the square thing and were a man last summer, though I’d 
liked it better if you’d faced up and told me you were promised; 
but to come back here babying, and take hold of Elnora like that, 
and talk that way because you have had a fuss with your girl, 
I don’t tolerate. Split that kindling and I’ll get your supper, and 
then you better go. I won’t have you working on Elnora’s big 
heart, because you have quarreled with someone else. You’ll have 
it patched up in a week and be gone again, so you can go right 
away.” 

“Mrs. Comstock, I came to ask Elnora to marry me.” 

“The more fool you, then!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “This time 


27<> A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

yesterday you were engaged to another woman, no doubt. Now, 
for some little flare-up you come racing here to use Elnora as a 
tool to spite the other girl. A week of sane living, and you will 
be sorry and ready to go back to Chicago, or, if you really are 
man enough to be sure of yourself, she will come to claim you. She 
has her rights. An engagement of years is a serious matter, and 
not broken for a whim. If you don’t go, she’ll come. Then, when 
you patch up your affairs and go sailing away together, where 
does my girl come in?” 

“I am a lawyer, Mrs. Comstock,” said Philip. “It appeals to 
me as beneath your ordinary sense of justice to decide a case with- 
out hearing the evidence. It is due me that you hear me first.” 

“Hear your side!” flashed Mrs. Comstock. “I’d a heap sight 
rather hear the girl !” 

“I wish to my soul that you had heard and seen her last night, 
Mrs. Comstock,” said Ammon. “Then, my way would be clear. I 
never even thought of coming here today. I’ll admit I would 

have come in time, but not for many months. My father sent 

„„ 55 

me. 

“Your father sent you! Why?” 

“Father, mother, and Polly were present last night. They, and 
all my friends, saw me insulted and disgraced in the worst ex- 
hibition of uncontrolled temper any of us ever witnessed. All of 
them knew it was the end. Father liked what I had told him of 
Elnora, and he advised me to come here, so I came. If she does 
not want me, I can leave instantly, but, oh I hoped she would 
understand!” 

“You people are not splitting wood,” called Elnora. 

“Oh yes we are!” answered Mrs. Comstock. “You set out the 
things for biscuit, and lay the table.” She turned again to Philip. 
“I know considerable about your father,” she said. “I have met 
your uncle’s family frequently this winter. I’ve heard your Aunt 
Anna say that she didn’t at all like Miss Carr, and that she and 
all your family secretly hoped that something would happen to 
prevent your marrying her. That chimes right in with your saying 
that your father sent you here. I guess you better speak your 
piece.” 


PHILIP AMMON RETURNS 27I 

Philip gave his version of the previous night. 

“Do you believe me ? 55 he finshed. 

“Yes,” said Mrs. Comstock. 

“May I stay?” 

“Oh, it looks all right for you, but what about her?” 

“Nothing, so far as I am concerned. Her plans were all made 
to start to Europe today. I suspect she is on the way by this time. 
Elnora is very sensible, Mrs. Comstock. Hadn’t you better let her 
decide this?” 

“The final decision rests with her, of course,” admitted Mrs. 
Comstock. “But look you one thing! She’s all I have. As Solomon 
says, ‘she is the one child, the only child of her mother.’ I’ve suf- 
fered enough in this world that I fight against any suffering which 
threatens her. So far as I know you’ve always been a man, and 
you may stay. But if you bring tears and heartache to her, don’t 
have the assurance to think I’ll bear it tamely. I’ll get right up 
and fight like a catamount, if things go wrong for Elnora!” 

“I have no doubt but you will,” replied Philip, “and I don’t 
blame you in the least if you do. I have the utmost devotion to 
offer Elnora, a good home, fair social position, and my family 
will love her dearly. Think it over. I know it is sudden, but my 
father advised it.” 

“Yes, I reckon he did!” said Mrs. Comstock dryly. “I guess 
instead of me being the catamount, you had the genuine article up 
in Chicago, masquerading in peacock feathers, and posing as a 
fine lady, until her time came to scratch. Human nature seems 
to be the same the world over. But I’d give a pretty to know that 
secret thing you say you don’t, that set her raving over your just 
catching a moth for Elnora. You might get that crock of straw- 
berries in the spring house.” 

They prepared and ate supper. Afterward they sat in the ar- 
bor and talked, or Elnora played until time for Philip to go. 

“Will you walk to the gate with me?” he asked Elnora as he 
arose. 

“Not tonight,” she answered lightly. “Come early in the morn- 
ing if you like, and we will go over to Sleepy Snake Creek and 
hunt moths and gather dandelions for dinner.” 


272 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

Philip leaned toward her. “May I tell you tomorrow why 
I came?” he asked. 

“I think not,” replied Elnora. “The fact is, I don’t care why 
you came. It is enough for me that we are your very good friends, 
and that in trouble, you have found us a refuge. I fancy we had 
better live a week or two before you say anything. There is a 
possibility that what you have to say may change in that length 
of time.” 

“It will not change one iota!” cried Philip. 

“Then it will have the grace of that much age to give it 
some small touch of flavor,” said the girl. “Come early in the 
morning.” 

She lifted the violin and began to play. 

“Well bless my soul!” ejaculated the astounded Mrs. Com- 
stock. “To think I was worrying for fear you couldn’t take care 
of yourself!” 

Elnora laughed while she played. 

“Shall I tell you what he said?” 

“Nope! I don’t want to hear it!” said Elnora. “He is only six 
hours from Chicago. I’ll give her a week to find him and fix 
it up, if he stays that long. If she doesn’t put in an appearance 
then, he can tell me what he wants to say, and I’ll take my time 
to think it over. Time in plenty, too! There are three of us in 
this, and one must be left with a sore heart for life. If the decision 
rests with me I propose to be very sure that it is the one who 
deserves such hard luck.” 

The next morning Philip came early, dressed in the outing 
clothing he had worn the previous summer, and aside from a 
slight paleness seemed very much the same as when he left. Elnora 
met him on the old footing, and for a week life went on exactly as 
it had the previous summer. Mrs. Comstock made mental notes 
and watched in silence. She could see that Elnora was on a strain, 
though she hoped Philip would not. The girl grew restless as the 
week drew to a close. Once when the gate clicked she suddenly 
lost color and moved nervously. Billy came down the walk. 

Philip leaned toward Mrs. Comstock and said : “I am expressly 
forbidden to speak to Elnora as I would like. Would you mind 


PHILIP AMMON RETURNS 273 

telling her for me that I had a letter from my father this morning 
saying that Miss Carr is on her way to Europe for the summer?” 

“Elnora,” said Mrs. Comstock promptly, “I have just heard 
that Carr woman is on her way to Europe, and I wish to my 
gracious stars she’d stay there!” 

Philip Ammon shouted, but Elnora arose hastily and went to 
meet Billy. They came into the arbor together and after speaking 
to Mrs. Comstock and Philip, Billy said: “Uncle Wesley and I 
found something funny, and we thought you’d like to see.” 

“I don’t know what I should do without you and Uncle Wesley 
to help me,” said Elnora. “What have you found now?” 

“Something I couldn’t bring. You have to come to it. I tried 
to get one and I killed it. They are a kind of insecty things, and 
they got a long tail that is three fine hairs. They stick those hairs 
right into the hard bark of trees, and if you pull, the hairs stay 
fast and it kills the bug.” 

“We will come at once,” laughed Elnora. “I know what they 
are, and I can use some in my work.” 

“Billy, have you been crying?” inquired Mrs. Comstock. 

Billy lifted a chastened face. “Yes, ma’am,” he replied. “This 
has been the worst day.” 

“What’s the matter with the day?” 

“The day is all right,” admitted Billy. “I mean every single 
thing has gone wrong with me.” 

“Now that is too bad !” sympathized Mrs. Comstock. 

“Began early this morning,” said Billy. “All Snap’s fault, too.” 

“What has poor Snap been doing?” demanded Mrs. Comstock, 
her eyes beginning to twinkle. 

“Digging for woodchucks, like he always does. He gets up at 
two o’clock to dig for them. He was coming in from the woods 
all tired and covered thick with dirt. I was going to the bam with 
the pail of water for Uncle Wesley to use in milking. I had to set 
down the pail to shut the gate so the chickens wouldn’t get into 
the flower beds, and old Snap stuck his dirty nose into the water 
and began to lap it down. I knew Uncle Wesley wouldn’t use that, 
so I had to go ’way back to the cistern for more, and it pumps 
awful hard. Made me mad, so I threw the water on Snap.” 


274 A GIRL of the limberlost 

“Well, what of it?” 

“Nothing, if he’d stood still. But it scared him awful, and when 
he’s afraid he goes a-humping for Aunt Margaret. When he got 
right up against her he stiffened out and gave a big shake. Y ou 
oughter seen the nice blue dress she had put on to go to Ona- 
basha!” 

Mrs. Comstock and Philip laughed, but Elnora put her arms 
around the boy. “Oh Billy!” she cried. “That was too bad!” 

“She got up early and ironed that dress to wear because it was 
cool. Then, when it was all dirty, she wouldn’t go, and she wanted 
to real bad.” Billy wiped his eyes. “That ain’t all, either,” he 
added. 

“We’d like to know about it, Billy,” suggested Mrs. Comstock, 
struggling with her face. 

“Cos she couldn’t go to the city, she’s most worked herself to 
death. She’s done all the dirty, hard jobs she could find. She’s 
fixing her grape juice now.” 

“Sure!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “When a woman is disappointed 
she always works like a dog to gain sympathy!” 

“Well, Uncle Wesley and I are sympathizing all we know how, 
without her working so. I’ve squeezed until I almost busted to 
get the juice out from the seeds and skins. That’s the hard part. 
Now, she has to strain it through white flannel and seal it in 
bottles, and it’s good for sick folks. Most wish I’d get sick myself, 
so I could have a glass. It’s so good!” 

Elnora glanced swiftly at her mother. 

“I worked so hard,” continued Billy, “that she said if I would 
throw the leavings in the woods, then I could come after you 
to see about the bugs. Do you want to go?” 

“We will all go,” said Mrs. Comstock. “I am mightily interested 
in those bugs myself.” 

From afar commotion could be seen at the Sinton home. 
Wesley and Margaret were running around wildly and peculiar 
sounds filled the air. 

“What’s the trouble?” asked Philip, hurrying to Wesley. 

“Cholera!” groaned Sinton. “My hogs are dying like flies.” 

Margaret was softly crying. “Wesley, can’t I fix something hot? 


PHILIP AMMON RETURNS 275 

Can’t we do anything? It means several hundred dollars and our 
winter meat.” 

“I never saw stock taken so suddenly and so hard,” said Wesley. 
“I have ’phoned for the veterinary to come as soon as he can get 
here.” 

All of them hurried to the feeding pen into which the pigs 
seemed to be gathering from the woods. Among the common 
stock were big white beasts of pedigree which were Wesley’s pride 
at county fairs. Several of these rolled on their backs, pawing 
the air feebly and emitting little squeaks. A huge Berkshire sat 
on his haunches, slowly shaking his head, the water dropping 
from his eyes, until he, too, rolled over with faint grunts. A pair 
crossing the yard on wavering legs collided, and attacked each 
other in anger, only to fall, so weak they scarcely could squeal. 
A fine snowy Plymouth Rock rooster, after several attempts, flew 
to the fence, balanced with great effort, wildly flapped his wings 
and started a guttural crow, but fell sprawling among the pigs, too 
helpless to stand. 

“Did you ever see such a dreadful sight?” sobbed Margaret. 

Billy climbed on the fence, took one long look and turned an 
astounded face to Wesley. 

“Why, them pigs is drunk!” he cried. “They act just like my 
pa! 

Wesley turned to Margaret. 

“Where did you put the leavings from that grape juice?” he 
demanded. 

“I sent Billy to throw it in the woods.” 

“Billy ” began Wesley. 

“Threw it just where she told me to,” cried Billy. “But some 
of the pigs came by there coming into the pen, and some were 
close in the fence comers.” 

“Did they eat it?” demanded Wesley. 

“They just chanked into it,” replied Billy graphically. “They 
pushed, and squealed, and fought over it. You couldn’t blame 
’em! It was the best stuff I ever tasted!” 

“Margaret,” said Wesley, “run ’phone that doctor he won’t be 


276 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

needed. Billy, take Elnora and Mr. Ammon to see the bugs. 
Katharine, suppose you help me a minute. 5 ’ 

Wesley took the clothes basket from the back porch and started 
in the direction of the cellar. Margaret returned from the tele- 
phone. 

“I just caught him,” she said. “There’s that much saved. Why 
Wesley, what are you going to do?” 

“You go sit on the front porch a little while,” said Wesley. 
“You will feel better if you don’t see this.” 

“Wesley,” cried Margaret, aghast. “Some of that wine is ten 
years old. There are days and days of hard work in it, and I 
couldn’t say how much sugar. Dr. Ammon keeps people alive 
with it when nothing else will stay on their stomachs.” 

“Let ’em die, then!” said Wesley. “You heard the boy, didn’t 
you?” 

“It’s a cold process. There’s not a particle of fermentation 
about it.” 

“Not a particle of fermentation! Great day, Margaret! Look 
at those pigs!” 

Margaret took a long look. “Leave me a few bottles for 
mincemeat,” she wavered. 

“Not a smell for any use on this earth! You heard the boy! 
He shan’t say, when he grows to manhood, that he learned to 
like it here!” 

Wesley threw away the wine, Mrs. Comstock cheerfully as- 
sisting. Then they walked to the woods to see and learn about 
the wonderful insects. The day ended with a big supper at Sin- 
tons’, and then they went to the Comstock cabin for a concert. 
Elnora played beautifully that night. When the Sintons left she 
kissed Billy with particular tenderness. She was so moved that 
she was kinder to Philip than she had intended to be, and Elnora 
as an antidote to a disappointed lover was a decided success in 
any mood. 

However strong the attractions of Edith Carr had been, once 
the bond was finally broken, Philip Ammon could not help realiz- 
ing that Elnora was the superior woman, and that he was for- 
tunate to have escaped, when he regarded his ties strongest. Every 


PHILIP AMMON RETURNS 277 

day, while working with Elnora, he saw more to admire. He grew 
very thankful that he was free to try to win her, and impatient 
to justify himself to her. 

Elnora did not evince the slightest haste to hear what he had 
to say, but waited the week she had set, in spite of Philip’s 
hourly manifest impatience. When she did consent to listen, Philip 
felt before he had talked five minutes, that she was putting her- 
self in Edith Carr’s place, and judging him from what the other 
girl’s standpoint would be. That was so disconcerting, he did 
not plead his cause nearly so well as he had hoped, for when 
he ceased Elnora sat in silence. 

“You are my judge,” he said at last. “What is your verdict?” 

“If I could hear her speak from her heart as I just have heard 
you, then I could decide,” answered Elnora. 

“She is on the ocean,” said Philip. “She went because she 
knew she was wholly in the wrong. She had nothing to say, or 
she would have remained.” 

“That sounds plausible,” reasoned Elnora, “but it is pretty 
difficult to find a woman in an affair that involves her heart with 
nothing at all to say. I fancy if I could meet her, she would say 
several things. I should love to hear them. If I could talk with her 
three minutes, I could tell what answer to make you.” 

“Don’t you believe me, Elnora?” 

“Unquestioningly,” answered Elnora. “But I would believe her 
also. If only I could meet her I soon would know.” 

“I don’t see how that is to be accomplished,” said Philip, “but 
I am perfectly willing. There is no reason why you should not 
meet her, except that she probably would lose her temper and 
insult you.” 

“Not to any extent,” said Elnora calmly. “I have a tongue of 
my own, while I am not without some small sense of personal 
values.” 

Philip glanced at her and began to laugh. Very different of 
facial formation and coloring, Elnora at times closely resembled 
her mother. She joined in his laugh ruefully. 

“The point is this,” she said. “Someone is going to be hurt, 
most dreadfully. If the decision as to whom it shall be rests with 


278 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

me, I must know it is the right one. Of course, no one ever hinted 
it to you, but you are a very attractive man, Philip. You are 
mighty good to look at, and you have a trained, refined mind, that 
makes you most interesting. For years Edith Carr has felt that you 
were hers. Now, how is she going to change? I have been think- 
ing — thinking deep and long, Phil. If I were in her place, I simply 
could not give you up, unless you had made yourself unworthy of 
love. Undoubtedly, you never seemed so desirable to her as just 
now, when she is told she can’t have you. What I think is that 
she will come to claim you yet.” 

“You overlook the fact that it is not in a woman’s power to 
throw away a man and pick him up at pleasure,” said Philip with 
some warmth. “She publicly and repeatedly cast me off. I ac- 
cepted her decision as publicly as it was made. You have done 
all your thinking from a wrong viewpoint. You seem to have an 
idea that it lies with you to decide what I shall do, that if you .say 
the word, I shall return to Edith. Put that thought out of your 
head ! Now, and for all time to come, she is a matter of indiffer- 
ence to me. She killed all feeling in my heart for her so completely 
that I do not even dread meeting her. 

“If I hated her, or was angry with her, I could not be sure the 
feeling would not die. As it is, she has deadened me into a creature 
of indifference. So you just revise your viewpoint a little, Elnora. 
Cease thinking it is for you to decide what I shall do, and that 
I will obey you. I make my own decisions in reference to any 
woman, save you. The question you are to decide is whether I 
may remain here, associating with you as I did last summer; but 
with the difference that it is understood that I am free; that it is 
my intention to care for you all I please, to make you return my 
feeling for you if I can. There is just one question for you to de- 
cide, and it is not triangular. It is between us. May I remain? May 
I love you? Will you give me the chance to prove what I think of 
you?” 

“You speak very plainly,” said Elnora. 

“This is the time to speak plainly,” said Philip Ammon. “There 
is no use in allowing you to go on threshing out a problem which 
does not exist. If you do not want me here, say so and I will go. 


PHILIP AMMON RETURNS 279 

Of course, I warn you before I start, that I will come back. 1 
won’t yield without the stiff est fight it is in me to make. But drop 
thinking it lies in your power to send me back to Edith Carr. If 
she were the last woman in the world, and I the last man, I’d 
jump off the planet before I would give her further opportunity 
to exercise her temper on me. Narrow this to us, Elnora. Will you 
take the place she vacated? Will you take the heart she threw 
away? I’d give my right hand and not flinch, if I could offer 
you my life, free from any contact with hers, but that is not pos- 
sible. I can’t undo things which are done. I can only profit by 
experience and build better in the future.” 

“I don’t see how you can be sure of yourself,” said Elnora. 
“I don’t see how I could be sure of you. You loved her first, you 
never can care for me anything like that. Always I’d have to be 
afraid you were thinking of her and regretting.” 

*‘Folly!” cried Philip. “Regretting what? That I was not 
married to a woman who was liable to rave at me any time or 
place, without my being conscious of having given offence? A 
man does relish that! I am likely to pine for more!” 

“You’d be thinking she’d learned a lesson. You would think it 
wouldn’t happen again.” 

“No, I wouldn’t be ‘thinking,’ ” said Philip. “I’d be ever- 
lastingly sure! I wouldn’t risk what I went through that night 
again, not to save my life ! Just you and me, Elnora. Decide for 
us.” 

“I can’t!” cried Elnora. “I am afraid!” 

“Very well,” said Philip. “We will wait until you feel that you 
can. Wait until fear vanishes. Just decide now whether you would 
rather have me go for a few months, or remain with you. Which 
shall it be, Elnora?” 

“You can never love me as you did her,” wailed Elnora. 

“I am happy to say I cannot,” replied he. “I’ve cut my matri- 
monial teeth. I’m cured of wanting to swell in society. I’m over 
being proud of a woman for her looks alone. I have no further use 
for lavishing myself on a beautiful, elegantly dressed creature, 
who thinks only of self. I have learned that I am a common man. 
I admire beauty and beautiful clothing quite as much as I ever 


280 a girl of the limberlost 


did ; but, first, I want an understanding, deep as the lowest recess 
of my soul, with the woman I marry. I want to work for you, 
to plan for you, to build you a home with every comfort, to give 
you all good things I can, to shield you from every evil. I want 
to interpose my body between yours and fire, flood, or famine. I 
want to give you everything; but I hate the idea of getting nothing 
at all on which I can depend in return. Edith Carr had only 
good looks to offer, and when anger overtook her, beauty went 
out like a snuffed candle. 

“I want you to love me. I want some consideration. I even 
crave respect. I’ve kept myself clean. So far as I know how to be, 
I am honest and scrupulous. It wouldn’t hurt me to feel that you 
took some interest in these things. Rather fierce temptations strike 
a man, every few days, in this world. I can keep decent, for a 
woman who cares for decency, but when I do, I’d like to have the 
fact recognized, by just enough of a show of appreciation that 
I could see it. I am tired of this one-sided business. After this, I 
want to get a little in return for what I give. Elnora, you have 
love, tenderness, and honest appreciation of the finest in life. 
Take what I offer, and give what I ask.” 

“You do not ask much,” said Elnora. 

“As for not loving you as I did Edith,” continued Philip, “as 
I said before, I hope not! I have a newer and a better idea of 
loving. The feeling I offer you was inspired by you. It is a Limber- 
lost product. It is as much bigger, cleaner, and more wholesome 
than any feeling I ever had for Edith Carr, as you are bigger 
than she, when you stand before your classes and in calm dignity 
explain the marvels of the Almighty, while she stands on a ball- 
room floor, and gives way to uncontrolled temper. Ye gods, 
Elnora, if you could look into my soul, you would see it leap 
and rejoice over my escape! Perhaps it isn’t decent, but it’s 
human; and I’m only a common human being. I’m the gladdest 
man alive that I’m free! I would turn somersaults and yell if I 
dared. What an escape! Stop straining after Edith Carr’s view- 
point and take a look from mine. Put yourself in my place and 
try to study out how I feel. 

“I am so happy I grow religious over it. Fifty times a day I 


PHILIP AMMON RETURNS 


28l 


catch myself whispering, ‘My soul is escaped!’ As for you, take 
all the time you want. If you prefer to be alone, I’ll take the 
next train and stay away as long as I can bear it, but I’ll come 
back. You can be most sure of that. Straight as your pigeons to 
their loft, I’ll come back to you, Elnora. Shall I go?” 

“Oh, what’s the use to be extravagant?” murmured Elnora. 


CHAPTER XXII 


Wherein Philip Ammon Kneels to Elnora, 
and Strangers Come to the Limberlost 


The month which followed was a reproduction of the previous 
June. There were long moth hunts, days of specimen gathering, 
wonderful hours with great books, big dinners all of them helped 
to prepare, and perfect nights filled with music. Everything was 
as it had been, with the difference that Philip was now an avowed 
suitor. He missed no opportunity to advance himself in Elnora’s 
graces. At the end of the month he was no nearer any sort of 
understanding with her than he had been at the beginning. He 
reveled in the privilege of loving her, but he got no response. 
Elnora believed in his love, yet she hesitated to accept him, be- 
cause she could not forget Edith Carr. 

One afternoon early in July, Philip came across the fields, 
through the Comstock woods, and entered the garden. He in- 
quired for Elnora at the back door and was told that she was 
reading under the willow. He went around the west end of the 
cabin to her. She sat on a rustic bench they had made and placed 
beneath a drooping branch. He had not seen her before in the 
dress she was wearing. It was clinging mull of pale green, 
trimmed with narrow ruffles and touched with knots of black 
velvet; a simple dress, but vastly becoming. Every tint of her 
bright hair, her luminous eyes, her red lips, and her rose-flushed 
face, neck, and arms grew a little more vivid with the delicate 
green setting. 

He stopped short. She was so near, so temptingly sweet, he 


PHILIP KNEELS TO ELNORA 283 

lost control. He went to her with a half-smothered cry after that 
first long look, dropped on one knee beside her and reached an 
arm behind her to the bench back, so that he was very near. He 
caught her hands. 

“Elnora!” he cried tensely, “end it now! Say this strain is 
over. I pledge you that you will be happy. You don’t know! If 
you only would say the word, you would awake to new life and 
great joy! Won’t you promise me now, Elnora?” 

The girl sat staring into the west woods, while strong in her 
eyes was her father’s look of seeing something invisible to others. 
Philip’s arm slipped from the bench around her. His fingers closed 
firmly over hers. “Elnora,” he pleaded, “you know me well 
enough. You have had time in plenty. End it now. Say you will 
be mine!” He gathered her closer, pressing his face against hers, 
his breath on her cheek. “Can’t you quite promise yet, my girl of 
the Limberlost?” 

Elnora shook her head. Instantly he released her. 

“Forgive me,” he begged. “I had no intention of thrusting my- 
self upon you, but, Elnora, you are the veriest Queen of Love 
this afternoon. From the tips of your toes to your shining crown, 
I worship you. I want no woman save you. You are so wonderful 
this afternoon, I couldn’t help urging. Forgive me. Perhaps it was 
something that came this morning for you. I wrote Polly to send 
it. May we try if it fits? Will you tell me if you like it?” 

He drew a little white velvet box from his pocket and showed 
her a splendid emerald ring. 

“It may not be right,” he said. “The inside of a glove finger 
is not very accurate for a measure, but it was the best I could do. 
I wrote Polly to get it, because she and mother are home from 
the East this week, but next they will go on to our cottage in the 
north, and no one knows what is right quite so well as Polly.” He 
laid the ring in Elnora’s hand. “Dearest,” he said, “don’t slip 
that on your finger; put your arms around my neck and promise 
me, all at once and abruptly, or I’ll keel over and die of sheer 

joy.” 

Elnora smiled. 

“I won’t! Not all those venturesome things at once; but, Phil, 


284 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

I’m ashamed to confess that ring simply fascinates me. It is the 
most beautiful one I ever saw, and do you know that I never 
owned a ring of any kind in my life? Would you think me un- 
womanly if I slip it on for a second, before I can say for sure? 
Phil, you know I care! I care very much! You know I will tell 
you the instant I feel right about it.” 

“Certainly you will,” agreed Philip promptly. “It is your right 
to take all the time you choose. I can’t put that ring on you 
until it means a bond between us. I’ll shut my eyes and you try 
it on, so we can see if it fits.” 

Philip turned his face toward the west woods and tightly closed 
his eyes. It was a boyish thing to do, and it caught the hesitating 
girl in the depths of her heart as the boy element in a man ever 
appeals to a motherly woman. Before she quite realized what she 
was doing, the ring slid on her finger. With both arms she caught 
Philip and drew him to her breast, holding him closely. Her 
head drooped over his, her lips were on his hair. So an instant, 
then her arms dropped. He lifted a convulsed, white face. 

“Dear Lord!” he whispered. “You — you didn’t mean that, 
Elnora! You What made you do it?” 

“You — you looked so boyish!” panted Elnora. “I didn’t mean 
it ! I — I forgot that you were older than Billy. Look — look at the 
ring!” 

“ ‘The Queen can do no wrong,’ ” quoted Philip between his 
set teeth. “But don’t you do that again, Elnora, unless you do 
mean it. Kings are not so good as queens, and there is a limit with 
all men. As you say, we will look at your ring. It seems very lovely 
tc me. Suppose you leave it on until time for me to go. Please do ! 
I have heard of mute appeals; perhaps it will plead for me. I 
am wild for your lips this afternoon. I am going to take your 
hands.” 

He caught both of them and covered them with kisses. 

“Elnora,” he said, “will you be my wife?” 

“I must have a little more time,” she whispered. “I must be 
absolutely certain, for when I say yes, and give myself to you, 
only death shall part us. I would not give you up. So I want 
a little more time — but, I think I will.” 


PHILIP KNEELS TO ELNORA 285 

“Thank you,” said Philip. “If at any time you feel that you 
have reached a decision, will you tell me? Will you promise me 
to tell me instantly, or shall I keep asking you until the time 
comes?” 

“You make it difficult,” said Elnora. “But I will promise you 
that. Whenever the last doubt vanishes, I will let you know in- 
stantly — if I can.” 

“Would it be difficult for you?” whispered Ammon. 

“I — I don’t know,” faltered Elnora. 

“It seems as if I can’t be man enough to put this thought aside 
and give up this afternoon,” said Philip. “I am ashamed of my- 
self, but I can’t help it. I am going to ask God to make that last 
doubt vanish before I go this night. I am going to believe that 
ring will plead for me. I am going to hope that doubt will dis- 
appear suddenly. I will be watching. Every second I will be 
watching. If it happens and you can’t speak, give me your hand. 
Just the least movement toward me, I will understand. Would 
it help you to talk this over with your mother? Shall I call her? 
Shall I ?” 

Plonk ! Honk ! Honk ! Hart Henderson set the horn of the big 
automobile going as it shot from behind the trees lining the Brush- 
wood road. The picture of a vine-covered cabin, a large drooping 
tree, a green-clad girl and a man bending over her very closely 
flashed into view. Edith Carr caught her breath with a snap. 
Polly Ammon gave Tom Levering a quick touch and wickedly 
winked at him. 

Several days before, Edith had returned from Europe suddenly. 
She and Henderson had called at the Ammon residence saying 
that they were going to motor down to the Limberlost to see 
Philip a few hours, and urged that Polly and Tom accompany 
them. Mrs. Ammon knew that her husband would disapprove of 
the trip, but it was easy to see that Edith Carr had determined 
on going. So the mother thought it better to have Polly along to 
support Philip than to allow him to confront Edith unexpectedly 
and alone. Polly was full of spirit. She did not relish the thought 
of Edith as a sister. Always they had been in the same set, always 
Edith, because of greater beauty and wealth, had patronized 


286 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 


Polly. Although it had rankled, she had borne it sweetly. But two 
days before, her father had extracted a promise of secrecy, given 
her Philip’s address and told her to send him the finest emerald 
ring she could select. Polly knew how that ring would be used. 
What she did not know was that the girl who accompanied her 
went back to the store afterward, made an excuse to the clerk 
that she had been sent to be absolutely sure that the address was 
right, and so secured it for Edith Carr. 

Two days later Edith had induced Hart Henderson to take 
her to Onabasha. By the aid of maps they located the Comstock 
land and passed it, merely to see the place. Henderson hated that 
trip, and implored Edith not to take it, but she made no effort to 
conceal from him what she suffered, and it was more than he 
could endure. He pointed out that Philip had gone away without 
leaving an address, because he did not wish to see her, or any of 
them. But Edith was so sure of her power, she felt certain Philip 
needed only to see her to succumb to her beauty as he always had 
done, while now she was ready to plead for forgiveness. So they 
came down the Brushwood road, and Henderson had just said 
to Edith beside him: “This should be the Comstock land on our 
left.” 

A minute later the wood ended, while the sunlight, as always 
pitiless, etched with distinctness the scene at the west end of the 
cabin. Instinctively, to save Edith, Henderson set the horn blow- 
ing. He had thought to drive to the city, but Polly Ammon arose 
crying: “Phil ! Phil !” Tom Levering was on his feet shouting and 
waving, while Edith in her most imperial manner ordered him to 
turn into the lane leading through the woods beside the cabin. 

“Find some way for me to have a minute alone with her,” 
she commanded as he stopped the car. 

“That is my sister Polly, her fiance Tom Levering, a friend of 
mine named Henderson, and ” began Philip. 

“ and Edith Carr,” volunteered Elnora. 

“And Edith Carr,” repeated Philip Ammon. “Elnora, be brave, 
for my sake. Their coming can make no difference in any way. 
I won’t let them stay but a few minutes. Come with me !” 

“Do I seem scared?” inquired Elnora serenely. “This is why 


PHILIP KNEELS TO ELNORA 287 

you haven’t had your answer. I have been waiting just six weeks 
for that motor. You may bring them to me at the arbor.” 

Philip glanced at her and broke into a laugh. She had not lost 
color. Her self-possession was perfect. She deliberately turned 
and walked toward the grape arbor, while he sprang over the 
west fence and ran to the car. 

Elnora standing in the arbor entrance made a perfect picture, 
framed in green leaves and tendrils. No matter how her heart 
ached, it was good to her, for it pumped steadily, and kept her 
cheeks and lips suffused with color. She saw Philip reach the 
car and gather his sister into his arms. Past her he reached a hand 
to Levering, then to Edith Carr and Henderson. He lifted his 
sister to the ground, and assisted Edith to alight. Instantly, she 
stepped beside him, and Elnora’s heart played its first trick. 

She could see that Miss Carr was splendidly beautiful, while 
she moved with the hauteur and grace supposed to be the pre- 
rogatives of royalty. And she had instantly taken possession of 
Philip. But he also had a brain which was working with rapidity. 
He knew Elnora was watching, so he turned to the others. 

“Give her up, Tom!” he cried. “I didn’t know I wanted to 
see the little nuisance so badly, but I do. How are father and 
mother? Polly, didn’t the mater send me something?” 

“She did!” said Polly Ammon, stopping on the path and lift- 
ing her chin as a little child, while she drew away her veil. 

Philip caught her in his arms and stooped for his mother’s kiss. 

“Be good to Elnora!” he whispered. 

“Umhu !” assented Polly. And aloud — “Look at that ripping 
green and gold symphony ! I never saw such a beauty ! Thomas 
Asquith Levering, you come straight here and take my hand !” 

Edith’s move to compel Philip to approach Elnora beside her 
had been easy to see; also its failure. Henderson stepped into 
Philip’s place as he turned to his sister. Instead of taking Polly’s 
hand Levering ran to open the gate. Edith passed through first, 
but Polly darted in front of her on the run, with Phil holding her 
arm, and swept up to Elnora. Polly looked for the ring and saw it. 
That settled matters with her. 

“You lovely, lovely, darling girl!” she cried, throwing her arms 


288 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

around Elnora and kissing her. With her lips close Elnora's ear, 
Polly whispered, “Sister! Dear, dear sister!” 

Elnora drew back, staring at Polly in confused amazement. She 
was a beautiful girl, her eyes were sparkling and dancing, and as 
she turned to make way for the others, she kept one of Elnora’s 
hands in hers. Polly would have dropped dead in that instant if 
Edith Carr could have killed with a look, for not until then did she 
realize that Polly would even many a slight, and that it had been 
a great mistake to bring her. 

Edith bowed low, muttered something and touched Elnora’s 
fingers. Tom took his cue from Polly. 

“I always follow a good example,” he said, and before anyone 
could divine his intention he kissed Elnora as he gripped her hand 
and cried : “Mighty glad to meet you ! Like to meet you a dozen 
times a day, you know !” 

Elnora laughed and her heart pumped smoothly. They had ac- 
complished their purpose. They had let her know they were there 
through compulsion, but on her side. In that instant only pity was 
in Elnora’s breast for the flashing dark beauty, standing with 
smiling face while her heart must have been filled with exceeding 
bitterness. Elnora stepped back from the entrance. 

“Come into the shade,” she urged. “You must have found it 
warm on these country roads. Won’t you lay aside your dust-coats 
and have a cool drink? Philip, would you ask mother to come, 
and bring that pitcher from the spring house?” 

They entered the arbor exclaiming at the dim, green coolness. 
There was plenty of room and wide seats around the sides, a table 
in the center, on which lay a piece of embroidery, magazines, 
books, the moth apparatus, and the cyanide jar containing several 
specimens. Polly rejoiced in the cooling shade, slipped off her 
duster, removed her hat, rumpled her pretty hair and seated her- 
self to indulge in the delightful occupation of paying off old 
scores. Tom Levering followed her example. Edith took a seat but 
refused to remove her hat and coat, while Henderson stood in 
the entrance. 

“There goes something with wings! Should you have that?” 
cried Levering. 


PHILIP KNEELS TO ELNORA 289 

He seized a net from the table and raced across the garden after 
a butterfly. He caught it and came back mightily pleased with 
himself. As the creature struggled in the net, Elnora noted a re- 
pulsed look on Edith Carr’s face. Levering helped the situation 
beautifully. 

“Now what have I got?” he demanded. “Is it just a common 
one that everyone knows and you don’t keep, or is it the rarest 
bird off the perch?” 

“You must have had practice, you took that so perfectly,” said 
Elnora. “I am sorry, but it is quite common and not of a kind I 
keep. Suppose all of you see how beautiful it is and then it may go 
nectar hunting again.” 

She held the butterfly where all of them could see, showed its 
upper and under wing colors, answered Polly’s questions as to 
what it ate, how long it lived, and how it died. Then she put it 
into Polly’s hand saying: “Stand there in the light and loosen 
your hold slowly and easily.” 

Elnora caught a brush from the table and began softly stroking 
the creature’s sides and wings. Delighted with the sensation the 
butterfly opened and closed its wings, clinging to Polly’s soft little 
fingers, while everyone cried out in surprise. Elnora laid aside the 
brush, and the butterfly sailed away. 

“Why, you are a wizard! You charm them!” marveled 
Levering. 

“I learned that from the Bird Woman,” said Elnora. “She takes 
soft brushes and coaxes butterflies and moths into the positions 
she wants for the illustrations of a book she is writing. I have 
helped her often. Most of the rare ones I find go to her.” 

“Then you don’t keep all you take?” questioned Levering. 

“Oh, dear, no!” cried Elnora. “Not a tenth! For myself, a pair 
of each kind to use in illustrating the lectures I give in the city 
schools in the winter, and one pair for each collection I make. 
One might as well keep the big night moths of June, for they 
only live four or five days anyway. For the Bird Woman, I only 
save rare ones she has not yet secured. Sometimes I think it is 
cruel to take such creatures from freedom, even for an hour, but 
it is the only way to teach the masses of people how to distinguish 


290 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

the pests they should destroy, from the harmless ones of great 
beauty. Here comes mother with something cool to drink.” 

Mrs. Comstock came deliberately, talking to Philip as she ap- 
proached. Elnora gave her one searching look, but could discover 
only an extreme brightness of eye to denote any unusual feeling. 
She wore one of her lavender dresses, while her snowy hair was 
high piled. She had taken care of her complexion, and her face 
had grown fuller during the winter. She might have been anyone’s 
mother with pride, and she was perfectly at ease. 

Polly instantly went to her and held up her face to be kissed. 
Mrs. Comstock’s eyes twinkled and she made the greeting 
hearty. 

The drink was compounded of the juices of oranges and berries 
from the garden. It was cool enough to frost glasses and pitcher 
and delicious to dusty tired travelers. Soon the pitcher was empty, 
and Elnora picked it up and went to refill it. While she was gone 
Henderson asked Philip about some trouble he was having with 
his car. They went to the woods and began a minute examination 
to find a defect which did not exist. Polly and Levering were 
having an animated conversation with Mrs. Comstock. Henderson 
saw Edith arise, follow the garden path next the woods and 
stand waiting under the willow which Elnora would pass on her 
return. It was for that meeting he had made the trip. He got 
down on the ground, tore up the car, worked, asked for help, and 
kept Philip busy screwing bolts and applying the oil can. All the 
time Henderson kept an eye on Edith and Elnora under the 
willow. But he took pains to lay the work he asked Philip to do 
where that scene would be out of his sight. When Elnora came 
around the corner with the pitcher, she found herself facing Edith 
Carr. 

“I want a minute with you,” said Miss Carr. 

“Very well,” replied Elnora, walking on. 

“Set the pitcher on the bench there,” commanded Edith Carr, 
as if speaking to a servant. 

“I prefer not to offer my visitors a warm drink,” said Elnora. 
“I’ll come back if you really wish to speak with me.” 

“I came solely for that,” said Edith Carr. 


PHILIP KNEELS TO ELNORA 29I 

“It would be a pity to travel so far in this dust and heat for 
nothing. I’ll only be gone a second.” 

Elnora placed the pitcher before her mother. “Please serve 
this,” she said. “Miss Carr wishes to speak with me.” 

“Don’t you pay the least attention to anything she says,” cried 
Polly. “Tom and I didn’t come here because we wanted to. We 
only came to checkmate her. I hoped I’d get the opportunity to 
say a word to you, and now she has given it to me. I just want 
to tell you that she threw Phil over in a perfectly horrid way. She 
hasn’t any right to lay the ghost of a claim to him, has she, Tom?” 

“Nary a claim,” said Tom Levering earnestly. “Why, even you, 
Polly, couldn’t serve me as she did Phil, and ever get me back 
again. If I were you, Miss Comstock, I’d send my mother to talk 
with her and I’d stay here.” 

Tom had gauged Mrs. Comstock rightly. Polly put her arms 
around Elnora. “Let me go with you, dear,” she begged. 

“I promised I would speak with her alone,” said Elnora, “and 
she must be considered. But thank you, very much.” 

“How I shall love you !” exulted Polly, giving Elnora a parting 
hug. 

The girl slowly and gravely walked back to the willow. She 
could not imagine what was coming, but she was promising her- 
self that she would be very patient and control her temper. 

“Will you be seated?” she asked politely. 

Edith Carr glanced at the bench, while a shudder shook her. 

“No. I prefer to stand,” she said. “Did Mr. Ammon give you 
the ring you are wearing, and do you consider yourself engaged 
to him?” 

“By what right do you ask such personal questions as those?” 
inquired Elnora. 

“By the right of a betrothed wife. I have been promised to 
Philip Ammon ever since I wore short skirts. All our lives we have 
expected to marry. An agreement of years cannot be broken in 
one insane moment. Always he has loved me devotedly. Give me 
ten minutes with him and he will be mine for all time.” 

“I seriously doubt that,” said Elnora. “But I am willing that 
you should make the test. I will call him.” 


292 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

“Stop!” commanded Edith Carr. “I told you that it was you I 
came to see.” 

“I remember,” said Elnora. 

“Mr. Ammon is my betrothed,” continued Edith Carr. “I ex- 
pect to take him back to Chicago with me.” 

“You expect considerable,” murmured Elnora. “I will raise no 
objection to your taking him, if you can — but, I tell you frankly, 
I don’t think it possible.” 

“You are so sure of yourself as that,” scoffed Edith Carr. “One 
hour in my presence will bring back the old spell, full force. We 
belong to each other. I will not give him up.” 

“Then it is untrue that you twice rejected his ring, repeatedly 
insulted him, and publicly renounced him?” 

“That was through you!” cried Edith Carr. “Phil and I never 
had been so near and so happy as we were on that night. It was 
your clinging to him for things that caused him to desert me 
among his guests, while he tried to make me await your pleasure. 
I realize the spell of this place, for a summer season. I understand 
what you and your mother have done to inveigle him. I know that 
your hold on him is quite real. I can see just how you have worked 
to ensnare him!” 

“Men would call that lying,” said Elnora calmly. “The second 
time I met Philip Ammon he told me of his engagement to you, 
and I respected it. I did by you as I would want you to do by me. 
He was here parts of each day, almost daily last summer. The 
AJmighty is my witness that never once, by word or look, did I 
ever make the slightest attempt to interest him in my person or 
personality. He wrote you frequently in my presence. He forgot 
the violets for which he asked to send you. I gathered them and 
carried them to him. I sent him back to you in unswerving de- 
votion, and the Almighty is also my witness that I could have 
changed his heart last summer, if I had tried. I wisely left that 
work for you. All my life I shall be glad that I lived and worked 
on the square. That he ever would come back to me free, by your 
act, I never dreamed. When he left me I did not hope or expect 
to see him again,” Elnora’s voice fell soft and low, “and, behold ! 
You sent him — and free !” 


PHILIP KNEELS TO ELNORA 293 

“You exult in that!” cried Edith Carr. “Let me tell you he is 
not free! We have belonged for years. We always shall. If you 
cling to him, and hold him to rash things he has said and done, 
because he thought me still angry and unforgiving with him, you 
will ruin all our lives. If he married you, before a month you 
would read heart-hunger for me in his eyes. He could not love me 
as he has done, and give me up for a little scene like that !” 

“There is a great poem,” said Elnora, “one line of which reads, 
‘For each man kills the thing he loves.’ Let me tell you that a 
woman can do that also. He did love you — that I concede. But 
you killed his love everlastingly, when you disgraced him in public. 
Killed it so completely he does not even feel resentment toward 
you. Today, he would do you a favor, if he could; but love you, 
no! That is over!” 

Edith Carr stood truly regal and filled with scorn. “You are 
mistaken ! Nothing on earth could kill that !” she cried, and Elnora 
saw that the girl really believed what she said. 

“You are very sure of yourself!” said Elnora. 

“I have reason to be sure,” answered Edith Carr. “We have 
lived and loved too long. I have had years with him to match 
against your days. He is mine ! His work, his ambitions, his friends, 
his place in society are with me. You may have a summer charm 
for a sick man in the country ; if he tried placing you in society, he 
soon would see you as others will. It takes birth to position, school- 
ing, and endless practice to meet social demands gracefully. You 
would put him to shame in a week.” 

“I scarcely think I should follow your example so far,” said 
Elnora dryly. “I have a feeling for Philip that would prevent my 
hurting him purposely, either in public or private. As for manag- 
ing a social career for him he never mentioned that he desired 
such a thing. What he asked of me was that I should be his wife. 
I understood that to mean that he desired me to keep him a clean 
house, serve him digestible food, mother his children, and give 
him loving sympathy and tenderness.” 

“Shameless!” cried Edith Carr. 

“To which of us do you intend that adjective to apply?” in- 
quired Elnora. “I never was less ashamed in all my life. Please 


294 A GIRL of the limberlost 

remember I am in my own home, and your presence here is not on 
my invitation . 55 

Miss Carr lifted her head and struggled with her veil. She was 
very pale and trembling violently, while Elnora stood serene, a 
faint smile on her lips. 

“Such vulgarity ! 55 panted Edith Carr. “How can a man like 
Philip endure it ? 55 

“Why don’t you ask him ? 55 inquired Elnora. “I can call him 
with one breath; but, if he judged us as we stand, I should not 
be the one to tremble at his decision. Miss Carr, you have been 
quite plain. You have told me in carefully selected words what 
you think of me. You insult my birth, education, appearance, and 
home. I assure you I am legitimate. I will pass a test examination 
with you on any high school or supplementary branch, or French 
or German. I will take a physical examination beside you. I will 
face any social emergency you can mention with you. I am ac- 
quainted with a whole world in which Philip Ammon is keenly 
interested, that you scarcely know exists. I am not afraid to face 
any audience you can get together anywhere with my violin. I 
am not repulsive to look at, and I have a wholesome regard for 
the proprieties and civilities of life. Philip Ammon never asked 
anything more of me, why should you ? 55 

“It is plain to see , 55 cried Edith Carr, “that you took him when 
he was hurt and angry and kept his wound wide open. Oh, what 
have you not done against me ? 55 

“I did not promise to marry him when an hour ago he asked 
me, and offered me this ring, because there was so much feeling 
in my heart for you, that I knew I never could be happy, if 
I felt that in any way I had failed in doing justice to your interests. 
I did slip on this ring, which he had just brought, because I 
never owned one, and it is very beautiful, but I made him no 
promise, nor shall I make any, until I am quite, quite sure, that 
you fully realize he never would marry you if I sent him away 
this hour . 55 

“You know perfectly that if your puny hold on him were 
broken, if he were back in his home, among his friends, and where 
he was meeting me, in one short week he would be mine again, as 


PHILIP KNEELS TO ELNORA 295 

he always has been. In your heart you don’t believe what you say. 
You don’t dare trust him in my presence. You are afraid to allow 
him out of your sight, because you know what the results would 
be. Right or wrong, you have made up your mind to ruin him and 
me, and you are going to be selfish enough to do it. But—” 

“That will do!” said Elnora. “Spare me the enumeration of 
how I will regret it. I shall regret nothing. I shall not act until 
I know there will be nothing to regret. I have decided on my 
course. You may return to your friends.” 

“What do you mean?” demanded Edith Carr. 

“That is my affair,” replied Elnora. “Only this! When your 
opportunity comes, seize it ! Any time you are in Philip Ammon’s 
presence, exert the charms of which you boast, and take him. I 
grant you are justified in doing it if you can. I want nothing more 
than I want to see you marry Philip if he wants you. He is just 
across the fence under that automobile. Go spread your meshes 
and exert your wiles. I won’t stir to stop you. Take him to 
Onabasha, and to Chicago with you. Use every art you possess. If 
the old charm can be revived I will be the first to wish both of you 
well. Now, I must return to my visitors. Kindly excuse me.” 

Elnora turned and went back to the arbor. Edith Carr fol- 
lowed the fence and passed through the gate into the west woods 
where she asked Henderson about the car. As she stood near him 
she whispered: “Take Phil back to Onabasha with us.” 

“I say, Ammon, can’t you go to the city with us and help me 
find a shop where I can get this pinion fixed?” asked Henderson. 
“We want to lunch and start back by five. That will get us home 
about midnight. Why don’t you bring your automobile here?” 

“I am a working man,” said Philip. “I have no time to be out 
motoring. I can’t see anything the matter with your car, myself ; 
but, of course you don’t want to break down in the night, on 
strange roads, with women on your hands. I’ll see.” 

Philip went into the arbor, where Polly took possession of his 
lap, fingered his hair, and kissed his forehead and lips. 

“When are you coming to the cottage, Phil?” she asked. “Come 
soon, and bring Miss Comstock for a visit. All of us will be so glad 
to have her.” 


296 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

Philip beamed on Polly. “I’ll see about that,” he said. “Sounds 
pretty good. Elnora, Henderson is in trouble with his automobile. 
He wants me to go to Onabasha with him to show him where the 
doctor lives, and make repairs so he can start back this evening. It 
will take about two hours. May I go?” 

“Of course, you must go,” she said, laughing lightly. “You 
can’t leave your sister. Why don’t you return to Chicago with 
them? There is plenty of room, and you could have a fine visit.” 

“I’ll be back in just two hours,” said Philip. “While I am 
gone, you be thinking over what we were talking of when the folks 
came.” 

“Miss Comstock can go with us as well as not,” said Polly. 
“That back seat was made for three, and I can sit on your lap.” 

“Come on! Do come!” urged Philip instantly, and Tom Lever- 
ing joined him, but Henderson and Edith silently waited at the 
gate. 

“No, thank you,” laughed Elnora. “That would crowd you, 
and it’s warm and dusty. We will say good-bye here.” 

She offered her hand to all of them, and when she came to 
Philip she gave him one long steady look in the eyes, then shook 
hands with him also. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


Wherein Elnora Reaches a Decision, 
and Freckles and the Angel Appear 


“Well, she came, didn’t she?” remarked Mrs. Comstock to 
Elnora as they watched the automobile speed down the road. As 
it turned the Limberlost corner, Philip arose and waved to them. 

“She hasn’t got him yet, anyway,” said Mrs. Comstock, taking 
heart. “What’s that on your finger, and what did she say to you?” 

Elnora explained about the ring as she drew it off. 

“I have several letters to write, then I am going to change my 
dress and walk down toward Aunt Margaret’s for a little exercise. 
I may meet some of them, and I don’t want them to see this ring. 
You keep it until Philip comes,” said Elnora. “As for what Miss 
Carr said to me, many things, two of importance: one, that I 
lacked every social requirement necessary for the happiness of 
Philip Ammon, and that if I married him I would see inside a 
month that he was ashamed of me ” 

“Aw, shockins!” scorned Mrs. Comstock. “Go on!” 

“The other was that she has been engaged to him for years, 
that he belongs to her, and she refuses to give him up. She said 
that if he were in her presence one hour, she would have him 
under a mysterious thing she calls ‘her spell’ again; if he were 
where she could see him for one week, everything would be made 
up. It is her opinion that he is suffering from wounded pride, and 
that the slightest concession on her part will bring him to his knees 
before her.” 

Mrs. Comstock giggled. “I do hope the boy isn’t weak-kneed,” 


298 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

she said. “I just happened to be passing the west window this 
afternoon 5 5 

Elnora laughed. “Nothing save actual knowledge ever would 
have made me believe there was a girl in all this world so in- 
fatuated with herself. She speaks casually of her power over men, 
and boasts of ‘bringing a man to his knees 5 as complacently as I 
would pick up a net and say: ‘I am going to take a butterfly . 5 She 
honestly believes that if Philip were with her a short time she could 
rekindle his love for her and awaken in him every particle of the 
old devotion. Mother, the girl is honest ! She is absolutely sincere ! 
She so believes in herself and the strength of Phil’s love for her, 
that all her life she will believe in and brood over that thought, 
unless she is taught differently. So long as she thinks that, she 
will nurse wrong ideas and pine over her blighted life. She must 
be taught that Phil is absolutely free, and yet he will not go to 
her . 55 

“But how on earth are you proposing to teach her that ? 55 

“The way will open . 55 

“Lookey here, Elnora ! 55 cried Mrs. Comstock. “That Carr girl 
is the handsomest dark woman I ever saw. She’s got to the place 
where she won’t stop at anything. Her coming here proves that. 
I don’t believe there was a thing the matter with that automobile. 
I think that was a scheme she fixed up to get Phil where she 
could see him alone, as she worked to see you. If you are going 
deliberately to put Philip under her influence again, you’ve got 
to brace yourself for the possibility that she may win. A man is a 
weak mortal, where a lovely woman is concerned, and he never 
denied that he loved her once. You may make yourself downright 
miserable.” 

“But mother, if she won, it wouldn’t make me half so miserable 
as to marry Phil myself, and then read hunger for her in his eyes ! 
Someone has got to suffer over this. If it proves to be me, I’ll bear 
it, and you’ll never hear a whisper of complaint from me. I know 
the real Philip Ammon better in our months of work in the fields 
than she knows him in all her years of society engagements. So 
she shall have the hour she asked, many, many of them, enough 


ELNORA REACHES A DECISION 299 

to make her acknowledge that she is wrong. Now I am going to 
write my letters and take my walk.” 

Elnora threw her arms around her mother and kissed her re- 
peatedly. “Don’t you worry about me,” she said. “I will get along 
all right, and whatever happens, I always will be your girl and 
you my darling mother.” 

She left two sealed notes on her desk. Then she changed her 
dress, packed a small bundle which she dropped with her hat 
from the window beside the willow, and softly went downstairs. 
Mrs. Comstock was in the garden. Elnora picked up the hat 
and bundle, hurried down the road a few rods, then climbed the 
fence and entered the woods. She took a diagonal course, and 
after a long walk reached a road two miles west and one south. 
There she straightened her clothing, put on her hat and a thin 
dark veil and waited the passing of the next trolley. She left it at 
the first town and took a train for Fort Wayne. She made that 
point just in time to climb on the evening train north, as it 
pulled from the station. It was after midnight when she left the 
car at Grand Rapids, and went into the depot to await the 
coming of day. 

Tired out, she laid her head on her bundle and fell asleep on a 
seat in the women’s waiting-room. Long after light she was 
awakened by the roar and rattle of trains. She washed, rearranged 
her hair and clothing, and went into the general waiting-room to 
find her way to the street. She saw him as he entered the door. 
There was no mistaking the tall, lithe figure, the bright hair, the 
lean, brown-splotched face, the steady gray eyes. He was dressed 
for traveling, and carried a light overcoat and a bag. Straight 
to him Elnora went speeding. 

“Oh, I was just starting to find you!” she cried. 

“Thank you !” he said. 

“You are going away?” she panted. 

“Not if I am needed. I have a few minutes. Can you be telling 
me briefly?” 

“I am the Limberlost girl to whom your wife gave the dress 
for Commencement last spring, and both of you sent lovely gifts. 


300 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

There is a reason, a very good reason, why I must be hidden for 
a time, and I came straight to you — as if I had a right.” 

“You have!” answered Freckles. “Any boy or girl who ever 
suffered one pang in the Limberlost has a claim to the best drop 
of blood in my heart. You needn’t be telling me anything more. 
The Angel is at our cottage on Mackinac. You shall tell her and 
play with the babies while you want shelter. This way!” 

They breakfasted in a luxurious car, talked over the swamp, 
the work of the Bird Woman; Elnora told of her nature lectures 
in the schools, and soon they were good friends. In the evening 
they left the train at Mackinaw City and crossed the Straits by 
boat. Sheets of white moonlight flooded the water and paved a 
molten path across the breast of it straight to the face of the moon. 

The island lay a dark spot on the silver surface, its tall trees 
sharply outlined on the summit, and a million lights blinked 
around the shore. The night guns boomed from the white fort and 
a dark sentinel paced the ramparts above the little city tucked 
down close to the water. A great tenor summering in the north 
came out on the upper deck of the big boat, and baring his head, 
faced the moon and sang: “Oh, the moon shines bright on my old 
Kentucky home!” Elnora thought of the Limberlost, of Philip, 
and her mother, and almost choked with the sobs that would arise 
in her throat. On the dock a woman of exquisite beauty swept 
into the arms of Terence O’ More. 

“Oh, Freckles!” she cried. “You’ve been gone a month!” 

“Four days, Angel, only four days by the clock,” remonstrated 
Freckles. “Where are the children?” 

“Asleep! Thank goodness! I’m worn to a thread. I never saw 
such inventive, active children. I can’t keep track of them!” 

“I have brought you help,” said Freckles. “Here is the Limber- 
lost girl in whom the Bird Woman is interested. Miss Comstock 
needs a rest before beginning her school work for next year, so 
she came to us.” 

“You dear thing! How good of you!” cried the Angel. “We 
shall be so happy to have you!” 

In her room that night, in a beautiful cottage furnished with 
every luxury, Elnora lifted a tired face to the Angel. 


ELNORA REACHES A DECISION 3OI 

“Of course, you understand there is something back of this?” 
she said. “I must tell you.” 

“Yes,” agreed the Angel. “Tell me! If you get it out of your 
system, you will stand a better chance of sleeping.” 

Elnora stood brushing the copper-bright masses of her hair as 
she talked. When she finished the Angel was almost hysterical. 

“You insane creature!” she cried. “How crazy of you to leave 
him to her ! I know both of them. I have met them often. She may 
be able to make good her boast. But it is perfectly splendid of 
you! And, after all, really it is the only way. I can see that. I 
think it is what I should have done myself, or tried to do. I don’t 
know that I could have done it ! When I think of walking away 
and leaving Freckles with a woman he once loved, to let her see if 
she can make him love her again, oh, it gives me a graveyard 
heart. No, I never could have done it! You are bigger than I ever 
was. I should have turned coward, sure.” 

“I am a coward,” admitted Elnora. “I am soul-sick! I am 
afraid I shall lose my senses before this is over. I didn’t want to 
come ! I wanted to stay, to go straight into his arms, to bind my- 
self with his ring, to love him with all my heart. It wasn’t my 
fault that I came. There was something inside that just pushed 
me. She is beautiful ” 

“I quite agree with you !” 

“You can imagine how fascinating she can be. She used no 
arts on me. Her purpose was to cower me. She found she could 
not do that, but she did a thing which helped her more: she 
proved that she was honest, perfectly sincere in what she thought. 
She believes that if she merely beckons to Philip, he will go to her. 
So I am giving her the opportunity to learn from him what he 
will do. She never will believe it from anyone else. When she is 
satisfied, I shall be also.” 

“But, child ! Suppose she wins him back !” 

“That is the supposition with which I shall eat and sleep for 
the coming few weeks. Would one dare ask for a peep at the 
babies before going to bed?” 

“Now, you are perfect!” announced the Angel. “I never should 
have liked you all I can, if you had been content to go to sleep 


302 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

in this house without asking to see the babies. Come this way. We 
named the first boy for his father, of course, and the girl for Aunt 
Alice. The next boy is named for my father, and the baby for the 
Bird Woman. After this we are going to branch out.” 

Elnora began to laugh. 

“Oh, I suspect there will be quite a number of them,” said the 
Angel serenely. “I am told the more there are the less trouble they 
make. The big ones take care of the little ones. We want a large 
family. This is our start.” 

She entered a dark room and held aloft a candle. She went to 
the side of a small white iron bed in which lay a boy of eight 
and another of three. They were perfectly formed, rosy children, 
the elder a replica of his mother, the other very like. Then they 
came to a cradle where a baby girl of almost two slept soundly, 
and made a picture. 

“But just see here!” said the Angel. She threw the light on a 
sleeping girl of six. A mass of red curls swept the pillow. Line 
and feature the face was that of Freckles. Without asking, Elnora 
knew the color and expression of the closed eyes. The Angel 
handed Elnora the candle, and stooping, straightened the child’s 
body. She ran her fingers through the bright curls, and lightly 
touched the aristocratic little nose. 

“The supply of freckles holds out in my family, you see!” she 
said. “Both of the girls will have them, and the second boy a few.” 

She stood an instant longer, then bending, ran her hand caress- 
ingly down a rosy bare leg, while she kissed the babyish red mouth. 
There had been some reason for touching all of them, the kiss fell 
on the lips which were like Freckles’s. 

To Elnora she said a tender good night, whispering brave 
words of encouragement and making plans to fill the days to come. 
Then she went away. An hour later there was a light tap on the 
girl’s door. 

“Come!” she called as she lay staring into the dark. 

The Angel felt her way to the bedside, sat down and took 
Elnora’s hands. 

“I just had to come back to you,” she said. “I have been telling 


ELNORA REACHES A DECISION 303 

F reckles, and he is almost hurting himself with laughing. I didn’t 
think it was funny, but he does. He thinks it’s the funniest thing 
that ever happened. He says that to run away from Mr. Ammon, 
when you had made him no promise at all, when he wasn’t 
sure of you, won’t send him home to her; it will set him hunting 
you! He says if you had combined the wisdom of Solomon, 
Socrates, and all the remainder of the wise men, you couldn’t 
have chosen any course that would have sealed him to you so 
surely. He feels that now Mr. Ammon will perfectly hate her for 
coming down there and driving you away. And you went to give 
her the chance she wanted. Oh, Elnora ! It is becoming funny ! I 
see it, too!” 

The Angel rocked on the bedside. Elnora faced the dark in 
silence. 

“Forgive me,” gulped the Angel. “I didn’t mean to laugh. I 
didn’t think it was funny, until all at once it came to me. Oh, 
dear ! Elnora, it is funny ! I’ve got to laugh !” 

“Maybe it is,” admitted Elnora, “to others; but it isn’t very 
1 funny to me. And it won’t be to Philip, or to mother.” 

That was very true. Mrs. Comstock had been slightly prepared 
: for stringent action of some kind, by what Elnora had said. The 
mother instantly had guessed where the girl would go, but nothing 
was said to Philip. That would have been to invalidate Elnora’s 
test in the beginning, and Mrs. Comstock knew her child well 
enough to know that she never would marry Philip unless she 
felt it right that she should. The only way was to find out, and 
Elnora had gone to seek the information. There was nothing to 
do but wait until she came back, and her mother was not in the 
least uneasy but that the girl would return brave and self-reliant, 
as always. 

Philip Ammon hurried back to the Limberlost, strong in the 
hope that now he might take Elnora into his arms and receive 
her promise to become his wife. His first shock of disappointment 
came when he found her gone. In talking with Mrs. Comstock 
he learned that Edith Carr had made an opportunity to speak 
with Elnora alone. He hastened down the road to meet her, com- 


304 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

mg back alone, an agitated man. Then search revealed the notes. 
His read : 

Dear Philip : 

I find that I am never going to be able to answer your question of 
this afternoon fairly to all of us, when you are with me. So I am go- 
ing away a few weeks to think over matters alone. I shall not tell 
you, or even mother, where I am going, but I shall be safe, well 
cared for, and happy. Please go back home and live among your 
friends, just as you always have done, and on or before the first of 
September, I will write you where I am, and what I have decided. 
Please do not blame Edith Carr for this, and do not avoid her. I 
hope you will call on her and be friends. I think she is very sorry, 
and covets your friendship at least. Until September, then, as ever, 

Elnora. 

Mrs. Comstock’s note was much the same. Philip was ill with 
disappointment. In the arbor he laid his head on the table, 
among the implements of Elnora’s loved work, and gulped down 
dry sobs he could not restrain. Mrs. Comstock never had liked 
him so well. Her hand involuntarily crept toward his dark head, 
then she drew back. Elnora would not want her to do anything 
whatever to influence him. 

“What am I going to do to convince Edith Carr that I do not 
love her, and Elnora that I am hers?” he demanded. 

“I guess you have to figure that out yourself,” said Mrs. Com- 
stock. “I’d be glad to help you if I could, but it seems to be up 
to you.” 

Philip sat a long time in silence. “Well, I have decided!” he 
said abruptly. “Are you perfectly sure Elnora had plenty of money 
and a safe place to go?” 

“Absolutely!” answered Mrs. Comstock. “She has been taking 
care of herself ever since she was bom, and she always has come 
out all right, so far; I’ll stake all I’m worth on it, that she always 
will. I don’t know where she is, but I’m not going to worry about 
her safety.” 

“I can’t help worrying!” cried Philip. “I can think of fifty 
things that may happen to her when she thinks she is safe. This is 
distracting! First, I am going to run up to see my father. Then, 


ELNORA REACHES A DECISION 305 

I’ll let you know what we have decided. Is there anything I can 
do for you?” 

“Nothing!” said Mrs. Comstock. 

But the desire to do something for him was so strong with her 
she scarcely could keep her lips closed or her hands quiet. She 
longed to tell him what Edith Carr had said, how it had affected 
Elnora, and to comfort him as she felt she could. But loyalty to 
the girl held her. If Elnora truly felt that she could not decide 
until Edith Carr was convinced, then Edith Carr would have to 
yield or triumph. It rested with Philip. So Mrs. Comstock kept 
silent, while Philip took the night limited, a bitterly disappointed 
man. 

By noon the next day he was in his father’s offices. They had 
a long conference, but did not arrive at much until the elder 
Ammon suggested sending for Polly. Anything that might have 
happened could be explained after Polly had told of the private 
conference between Edith and Elnora. 

“Talk about lovely women!” cried Philip Ammon. “One 
would think that after such a dose as Edith gave me, she would 
be satisfied to let me go my way, but no! Not caring for me 
enough herself to save me from public disgrace, she must now 
pursue me to keep any other woman from loving me. I call that 
too much! I am going to see her, and I want you to go with 
me, father.” 

“Very well,” said Mr. Ammon, “I will go.” 

When Edith Carr came into her reception room that afternoon, 
gowned for conquest, she expected only Philip, and him penitent. 
She came hurrying toward him, smiling, radiant, ready to use 
every allurement she possessed, and paused in dismay when she 
saw his cold face and his father. 

“Why, Phil!” she cried. “When did you come home?” 

“I am not at home,” answered Philip. “I merely ran up to see 
my father on business, and to inquire of you what it was you said 
to Miss Comstock yesterday that caused her to disappear before 
I could return to the Limberlost.” 

“Miss Comstock disappear! Impossible!” cried Edith Carr. 
“Where could she go?” 


306 a girl of the limberlost 

“I thought perhaps you could answer that, since it was through 
you that she went.” 

“Phil, I haven’t the faintest idea where she is,” said the girl 
gently. 

“But you know perfectly why she went! Kindly tell me that.” 

“Let me see you alone, and I will.” 

“Here and now, or not at all.” 

“Phil!” 

“What did you say to the girl I love?” 

Then Edith Carr stretched out her arms. 

“Phil, I am the girl you love!” she cried. “All your life you 
have loved me. Surely it cannot be all gone in a few weeks 
of misunderstanding. I was jealous of her! I did not want you to 
leave me an instant that night for any other girl living. That was 
the moth I was representing. Everyone knew it! I wanted you 
to bring it to me. When you did not, I knew instantly it had been 
for her that you worked last summer, she who suggested my dress, 
she who had power to take you from me, when I wanted you 
most. The thought drove me mad, and I said and did those 
insane things. Phil, I beg your pardon! I ask your forgiveness. 
Yesterday she said that you had told her of me at once. She 
vowed both of you had been true to me — and Phil, I couldn’t look 
into her eyes and not see that it was the truth. Oh, Phil, if you 
understood how I have suffered you would forgive me. Phil, I 
never knew how much I cared for you ! I will do anything — i 
anything!” 

“Then tell me what you said to Elnora yesterday that drove her, 
alone and friendless, into the night, heaven knows where!” 

“You have no thought for anyone save her?” 

“Yes,” said Philip. “I have. Because I once loved you, and 
believed in you, my heart aches for you. I will gladly forgive 
anything you ask. I will do anything you want, except to resume 
our former relations. That is impossible. It is hopeless and useless 
to ask it.” 

“You truly mean that!” 

“Yes.” 

“Then find out from her what I said !” 


ELNORA REACHES A DECISION 307 

“Come, father,” said Philip, rising. 

“You were going to show Miss Comstock’s letter to Edith,” 
suggested Mr. Ammon. 

“I have not the slightest interest in Miss Comstock’s letter,” 
said Edith Carr. 

“You are not even interested in the fact that she says you ar<? 
not responsible for her going, and that I am to call on you and be 
friends with you?” 

“That is interesting, indeed!” sneered Miss Carr. 

She took the letter, read and returned it. 

“She has done what she could for my cause, it seems,” she said 
coldly. “How very generous of her! Do you propose calling out 
Pinkertons and instituting a general search?” 

“No,” replied Philip. “I simply propose to go back to the Lim- 
berlost and live with her mother, until Elnora becomes convinced 
that I am not courting you, and never shall be. Then, perhaps, she 
will come home to us. Good-bye. Good luck to you always!” 


CHAPTER XXIV 


Wherein Edith Carr Wages a Battle, 
and Hart Henderson Stands Guard 


Many people looked, a few followed, when Edith Carr slowly 
came down the main street of Mackinac, pausing here and there 
to note the glow of color in one small booth after another, over- 
flowing with gay curios. That street of packed white sand, wind- 
ing with the curves of the shore, outlined with brilliant shops, and 
thronged with laughing, bareheaded people in outing costumes 
was a picturesque and fascinating sight. Thousands annually made 
long journeys and paid exorbitant prices to take part in that 
pageant. 

As Edith Carr passed, she was the most distinguished figure of 
the old street. Her clinging black gown was sufficiently elaborate 
for a dinner dress. On her head was a large, wide, drooping- 
brimmed black hat, with immense floating black plumes, while 
on the brim, and among the laces on her breast glowed velvety, 
deep red roses. Some way these made up for the lack of color in 
her cheeks and lips, and while her eyes seemed unnaturally bright, 
to a close observer they appeared weary. Despite the effort she 
made to move lightly she was very tired, and dragged her heavy 
feet with an effort. 

She turned at the little street leading to the dock, and went 
to meet the big lake steamer plowing up the Straits from 
Chicago. Past the landing place, on to the very end of the pier she 
went, then sat down, leaned against a dock support and closed 
her tired eyes. When the steamer came very close she languidly 


EDITH CARR WAGES A BATTLE 309 

watched the people lining the railing. Instantly she marked one 
lean anxious face turned toward hers, and with a throb of pity 
she lifted a hand and waved to Hart Henderson. He was the first 
man to leave the boat, coming to her instantly. She spread her 
trailing skirts and motioned him to sit beside her. Silently they 
looked across the softly lapping water. At last she forced herself 
to speak to him. 

“Did you have a successful trip?” 

“I accomplished my purpose.” 

“You didn’t lose any time getting back.” 

“I never do when I am coming to you.” 

“Do you want to go to the cottage for anything?” 

“No.” 

“Then let us sit here and wait until the Petoskey steamer comes 
in. I like to watch the boats. Sometimes I study the faces, if I am 
not too tired.” 

“Have you seen any new types today?” 

She shook her head. “This has not been an easy day, Hart.” 

“And it’s going to be worse,” said Henderson bitterly. “There’s 
no use putting it off. Edith, I saw someone today.” 

“You should have seen thousands,” she said lightly. 

“I did. But of them all, only one will be of interest to you.” 

“Man or woman?” 

“Man.” 

“Where?” 

“Lake Shore private hospital.” 

“An accident?” 

“No. Nervous and physical breakdown.” 

“Phil said he was going back to the Limberlost.” 

“He went. He was there three weeks, but the strain broke him. 
He has an old letter in his hands that he has handled until it is 
ragged. He held it up to me and said: ‘You can see for your- 
self that she says she will be well and happy, but we can’t know 
until we see her again, and that may never be. She may have gone 
too near that place her father went down, some of that Limberlost 
gang may have found her in the forest, she may lie dead in some 
city morgue this instant, waiting for me to find her body.’ ” 


310 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

“Hart! For pity’s sake stop!” 

“I can’t,” cried Henderson desperately. “I am forced to tell 
you. They are fighting brain fever. He did go back to the swamp 
and he prowled it night and day. The days down there are hot 
now, and the nights wet with dew and cold. He paid no attention 
and forgot his food. A fever started and his uncle brought him 
home. They’ve never had a word from her, or found a trace of 
her. Mrs. Comstock thought she had gone to O’ Mores’ at Great 
Rapids, so when Phil broke down she telegraphed there. They 
had been gone all summer, so her mother is as anxious as Phil.” 

“The O’Mores are here,” said Edith. “I haven’t seen any 
of them, because I haven’t gone out much in the few days since 
we came, but this is their summer home.” 

“Edith, they say at the hospital that it will take careful nurs- 
ing to save Phil. He is surrounded by stacks of maps and railroad 
guides. He is trying to frame up a plan to set the entire detective 
agency of the country to work. He says he will stay there just two 
days longer. The doctors say he will kill himself when he goes. He 
is a sick man, Edith. His hands are burning and shaky and his 
breath was hot against my face.” 

“Why are you telling me?” It was a cry of acute anguish. 

“He thinks you know where she is.” 

“I do not! I haven’t an idea! I never dreamed she would go 
away when she had him in her hand ! I should not have done it !” 

“He said it was something you said to her that made her go.” 

“That may be, but it doesn’t prove that I know where she 
went.” 

Henderson looked across the water and suffered keenly. At 
last he turned to Edith and laid a firm, strong hand over hers. 

“Edith,” he said, “do you realize how serious this is?” 

“I suppose I do.” 

“Do you want as fine a fellow as Philip driven any further? If 
he leaves that hospital now, and goes out to the exposure and 
anxiety of a search for her, there will be a tragedy that no after 
regrets can avert. Edith, what did you say to Miss Comstock that 
made her run away from Phil?” 


EDITH CARR WAGES A BATTLE 311, 

The girl turned her face from him and sat still, but the man 
gripping her hands and waiting in agony could see that she was 
shaken by the jolting of the heart in her breast. 

“Edith, what did you say?” 

“What difference can it make?” 

“It might furnish some clue to her action.” 

“It could not possibly.” 

“Phil thinks so. He has thought so until his brain is worn 
enough to give way. Tell me, Edith!” 

“I told her Phil was mine ! That if he were away from her an 
hour and back in my presence, he would be to me as he always 
has been.” 

“Edith, did you believe that?” 

“I would have staked my life, my soul on it!” 

“Do you believe it now?” 

There was no answer. Henderson took her other hand and hold- 
ing both of them firmly he said softly : “Don’t mind me, dear. I 
don’t count! I’m just old Hart! You can tell me anything. Do 
you still believe that?” 

The beautiful head barely moved in negation. Henderson 
gathered both her hands in one of his and stretched an arm across 
her shoulders to the post to support her. She dragged her hands 
from him and twisted them together. 

“Oh, Hart!” she cried. “It isn’t fair! There is a limit! I have 
suffered my share. Can’t you see? Can’t you understand?” 

“Yes,” he panted. “Yes, my girl ! Tell me just this one thing yet, 
and I’ll cheerfully kill anyone who annoys you further. Tell me, 
Edith!” 

Then she lifted her big, dull, pain-filled eyes to his and cried : 
“No ! I do not believe it now ! I know it is not true ! I killed his 
love for me. It is dead and gone forever. -Nothing will revive it! 
Nothing in all this world. And that is not all. I did not know how 
to touch the depths of his nature. I never developed in him those 
things he was made to enjoy. He admired me. He was proud to 
be with me. He thought, and I thought, that he worshiped me; 
but I know now that he never did care for me as he cares for her. 


312 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

Never ! I can see it ! I planned to lead society, to make his home 
a place sought for my beauty and popularity. She plans to ad- 
vance his political ambitions, to make him comfortable physically, 
to stimulate his intellect, to bear him a brood of red-faced chil- 
dren. He likes her and her plans as he never did me and mine. 
Oh, my soul! Now, are you satisfied?” 

She dropped back against his arm exhausted. Henderson held 
her and learned what suffering truly means. He fanned her with 
his hat, rubbed her cold hands and murmured broken, inco- 
herent things. By and by slow tears slipped from under her closed 
lids, but when she opened them her eyes were dull and hard. 

“What a rag one is when the last secret of the soul is torn out 
and laid bare!” she cried. 

Henderson thrust his handkerchief into her fingers and whis- 
pered, “Edith, the boat has been creeping up. It’s very close. 
Maybe some of our crowd are on it. Hadn’t we better slip away 
from here before it lands?” 

“If I can walk,” she said. “Oh, I am so dead tired, Hart!” 

“Yes, dear,” said Henderson soothingly. “Just try to pass the 
landing before the boat anchors. If I only dared carry you!” 

They struggled through the waiting masses, but directly oppo- 
site the landing there was a backward movement in the happy, 
laughing crowd, the gangplank came down with a slam, and 
people began hurrying from the boat. Crowded against the fish 
house on the dock, Henderson could only advance a few steps 
at a time. He was straining every nerve to protect and assist 
Edith. He saw no one he recognized near them, so he slipped his 
arm across her back to help support her. He felt her stiffen against 
him and catch her breath. At the same instant, the clearest, sweet- 
est male voice he ever had heard called : “Be careful there, little 
men !” 

Henderson sent a swift glance toward the boat. Terence 
O’More had stepped from the gangplank, leading a little daugh- 
ter, so like him, it was comical. There followed a picture not 
easy to describe. The Angel in the full flower of her beauty, richly 
dressed, a laugh on her cameo face, the setting sun glinting on 
her gold hair, escorted by her eldest son, who held her hand 


EDITH CARR WAGES A BATTLE 3:3 

tightly and carefully watched her steps. Next came Elnora, 
dressed with equal richness, a trifle taller and slenderer, almost the 
same type of coloring, but with different eyes and hair, facial 
lines and expression. She was led by the second O’More boy who 
convulsed the crowd by saying: “Tareful, Elnora! Don’t ’00 be 
’teppin’ in de water!” 

People surged around them, purposely closing them in. 

“What lovely women! Who are they? It’s the O’Mores. The 
lightest one is his wife. Is that her sister? No, it is his! They say 
he has a title in England.” 

Whispers ran fast and audible. As the crowd pressed around 
the party an opening was left beside the fish sheds. Edith ran 
down the dock. Henderson sprang after her, catching her arm 
and assisting her to the street. 

“Up the shore! This way!” she panted. “Everyone will go to 
dinner the first thing they do.” 

They left the street and started around the beach, but Edith 
was breathless from running, while the yielding sand made dif- 
ficult walking. 

“Help me!” she cried, clinging to Henderson. He put his arm 
around her, almost carrying her from sight into a little cove 
walled by high rocks at the back, while there was a clean floor of 
white sand, and logs washed from the lake for seats. He found 
one of these with a back rest, and hurrying down to the water he 
soaked his handkerchief and carried it to her. She passed it across 
her lips, over her eyes, and then pressed the palms of her hands 
upon it. Henderson removed the heavy hat, fanned her with his, 
and wet the handkerchief again. 

“Hart, what makes you?” she said wearily. “My mother doesn’t 
care. She says this is good for me. Do you think this is good for 
me, Hart?” 

“Edith, you know I would give my life if I could save you 
this,” he said, and could not speak further. 

She leaned against him, closed her eyes and lay silent so long 
the man fell into panic. 

“Edith, you are not unconscious?” he whispered, touching her. 

“No. Just resting. Please don’t leave me.” 


314 A GIRL of the limberlost 

He held her carefully, gently fanning her. She was suffering 
almost more than either of them could endure. 

“I wish you had your boat , 55 she said at last. “I want to sail 
with the wind in my face . 55 

“There is no wind. I can bring my motor around in a few min- 
utes . 55 

“Then get it . 55 

“Lie on the sand. I can ’phone from the first booth. It won’t 
take but a little while . 55 

Edith lay on the white sand, and Henderson covered her face 
with her hat. Then he ran to the nearest booth and talked im- 
peratively. Presently he was back bringing a hot drink that was 
stimulating. Shortly the motor ran close to the beach and stopped. 
Henderson’s servant brought a rowboat ashore and took them to 
the launch. It was filled with cushions and wraps. Henderson 
made a couch and soon, warmly covered, Edith sped out over the 
water in search of peace. 

Hour after hour the boat ran up and down the shore. The 
moon arose and the night air grew very chilly. Henderson put 
on an overcoat and piled more covers on Edith. 

“You must take me home , 55 she said at last. “The folks will be 
uneasy . 55 

He was compelled to take her to the cottage with the battle 
still raging. He went back early the next morning, but already 
she had wandered out over the island. Instinctively Henderson 
felt that the shore would attract her. There was something in the 
tumult of rough little Huron’s waves that called to him. It was 
there he found her, crouching so close the water the foam was 
dampening her skirts. 

“May I stay ? 55 he asked. 

“I have been hoping you would come,” she answered. “It’s 
bad enough when you are here, but it is a little easier than bear- 
ing it alone.” 

“Thank God for that!” said Henderson sitting beside her. 
“Shall I talk to you?” 

She shook her head. So they sat by the hour. At last she spoke : 
“Of course, you know there is something I have got to do, Hart!” 


EDITH CARR WAGES A BATTLE 315 

“You have not!” cried Henderson violently. “That’s all non- 
sense ! Give me just one word of permission. That is all that is re- 
quired of you.” 

Required?’ You grant, then, that there is something ‘re- 
quired?’ ” 

“One word. Nothing more.” 

“Did you ever know one word could be so big, so black, so 
desperately bitter? Oh, Hart!” 

“No.” 

“But you know it now, Hart!” 

“Yes.” 

“And still you say that it is ‘required?’ ” 

Henderson suffered unspeakably. At last he said: “If you 
had seen and heard him, Edith, you, too, would feel that it is 
‘required.’ Remember ” 

“No! No! No!” she cried. “Don’t ask me to remember even 
the least of my pride and folly. Let me forget!” 

She sat silent for a long time. 

“Will you go with me?” she whispered. 

“Of course.” 

At last she arose. 

“I might as well give up and have it over,” she faltered. 

That was the first time in her life that Edith Carr ever had 
proposed to give up anything she wanted. 

“Help me, Hart!” 

Henderson started around the beach assisting her all he could. 
Finally he stopped. 

“Edith, there is no sense in this! You are too tired to go. You 
know you can trust me. You wait in any of these lovely places 
and send me. You will be safe, and I’ll run. One word is all that 
is necessary.” 

“But I’ve got to say that word myself, Hart!” 

“Then write it, and let me carry it. The message is not going 
to prove who went to the office and sent it.” 

“That is quite true,” she said, dropping wearily, but she made 
no movement to take the pen and paper he offered. 

“Hart, you write it,” she said at last. 


316 a girl of the limberlost 

Henderson turned away his face. He gripped the pen, while his 
breath sucked between his dry teeth. 

“Certainly!” he said when he could speak. “Mackinac, August 
27, 1908. Philip Ammon, Lake Shore Hospital, Chicago.” He 
paused with suspended pen and glanced at Edith. Her white lips 
were working, but no sound came. “Miss Comstock is with the 
Terence O’Mores, on Mackinac Island,” prompted Henderson. 

Edith nodded. 

“Signed, Henderson,” continued the big man. 

Edith shook her head. 

“Say, ‘She is well and happy/ and sign, Edith Carr!” she 
panted. 

“Not on your life!” flashed Henderson. 

“For the love of mercy, Hart, don’t make this any harder! It 
is the least I can do, and it takes every ounce of strength in me 
to do it.” 

“Will you wait for me here?” he asked. 

She nodded, and, pulling his hat lower over his eyes, Hender- 
son ran around the shore. In less than an hour he was back. He 
helped her a little farther to where the Devil’s Kitchen lay cut 
into the rocks; it furnished places to rest, and cool water. Before 
long his man came with the boat. From it they spread blankets on 
the sand for her, and made chafing-dish tea. She tried to refuse it, 
but the fragrance overcame her for she drank ravenously. Then 
Henderson cooked several dishes and spread an appetizing lunch. 
She was young, strong, and almost famished for food. She was 
forced to eat. That made her feel much better. Then Henderson 
helped her into the boat and ran it through shady coves of the 
shore, where there were refreshing breezes. When she fell asleep 
the girl did not know, but the man did. Sadly in need of rest him- 
self, he ran that boat for five hours through quiet bays, away 
from noisy parties, and where the shade was cool and deep. When 
she awoke he took her home, and as they went she knew that she 
had been mistaken. She would not die. Her heart was not even 
broken. She had suffered horribly; she would suffer more; but 
eventually the pain must wear out. Into her head crept a few lines 
of an old opera: 


EDITH CARR WAGES A BATTLE 317 

“Hearts do not break , they sting and ache , 

For old love’s sake , but do not die, 

As witnesseth the living I.” 

That evening they were sailing down the Straits before a stiff 
breeze and Henderson was busy with the tiller when she said to 
him: “Hart, I want you to do something more for me.” 

“You have only to tell me,” he said. 

“Have I only to tell you, Hart?” she asked softly. 

“Haven’t you learned that yet, Edith?” 

“I want you to go away.” 

“Very well,” he said quietly, but his face whitened visibly. 

“You say that as if you had been expecting it.” 

“I have. I knew from the beginning that when this was over 
you would dislike me for having seen you suffer. I have grown 
my Gethsemane in a full realization of what was coming, but I 
could not leave you, Edith, so long as it seemed to me that I was 
serving you. Does it make any difference to you where I go?” 

“I want you where you will be loved, and good care taken of 
you.” 

“Thank you!” said Henderson, smiling grimly. “Have you 
any idea where such a spot might be found?” 

“It should be with your sister at Los Angeles. She always has 
seemed very fond of you.” 

“That is quite true,” said Henderson, his eyes brightening a 
little. “I will go to her. When shall I start?” 

“At once.” 

Henderson began to tack for the landing, but his hands shook 
until he scarcely could manage the boat. Edith Carr sat watch- 
ing him indifferently, but her heart was throbbing painfully. 
“Why is there so much suffering in the world?” she kept whis- 
pering to herself. Inside her door Henderson took her by the 
shoulders almost roughly. 

“For how long is this, Edith, and how are you going to say 
good-bye to me?” 

She raised tired, pain-filled eyes to his. 

“I don’t know for how long it is,” she said. “It seems now as 


3 18 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

if it had been a slow eternity. I wish to my soul that God would 
be merciful to me and make something ‘snap 5 in my heart, as 
there did in Phil’s, that would give me rest. I don’t know for how 
long, but I’m perfectly shameless with you, Hart. If peace ever 
comes and I want you, I won’t wait for you to find it out yourself, 
I’ll cable, Marconigraph, anything. As for how I say good-bye, 
any way you please. I don’t care in the least what happens to 
me. 

Henderson studied her intently. 

“In that case, we will shake hands,” he said. “Good-bye, Edith. 
Don’t forget that every hour I am thinking of you and hoping all 
good things will come to you soon.” 


CHAPTER XXV 


Wherein Philip Finds Elnora, and Edith 
Carr Offers a Yellow Emperor 


“Oh, I need my own violin,” cried Elnora. “This one may be a 
thousand times more expensive, and much older than mine; but 
it wasn’t inspired and taught to sing by a man who knew how. 
It doesn’t know ‘beans,’ as mother would say, about the Lim- 
berlost.” 

The guests in the O’ More music room laughed appreciatively. 

“Why don’t you write your mother to come for a visit and 
bring yours?” suggested Freckles. 

“I did that three days ago,” acknowledged Elnora. “I am half 
expecting her on the noon boat. That is one reason why this vio- 
lin grows worse every minute. There is nothing at all the matter 
with me.” 

“Splendid !” cried the Angel. “I’ve begged and begged her to 
do it. I know how anxious these mothers become. When did you 
send? What made you? Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“ ‘When?’ Three days ago. ‘What made me?’ You. ‘Why 
didn’t I tell you?’ Because I can’t be sure in the least that she will 
come. Mother is the most individual person. She never does what 
everyone expects she will. She may not come, and I didn’t want 
you to be disappointed.” 

“How did I make you?” asked the Angel. 

“Loving Alice. It made me realize that if you cared for your 
girl like that, with Mr. O’ More and three other children, possi- 
bly my mother, with no one, might like to see me. I know I want 


320 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

to see her, and you had told me to so often, I just sent for her. 
Oh, I do hope she comes ! I want her to see this lovely place.” 

“I have been wondering what you thought of Mackinac,” said 
Freckles. 

“Oh, it is a perfect picture, all of it ! I should like to hang it on 
the wall, so I could see it whenever I wanted to; but it isn’t real, 
of course; it’s nothing but a picture.” 

“These people won’t agree with you,” smiled Freckles. 

“That isn’t necessary,” retorted Elnora. “They know this, and 
they love it; but you and I are acquainted with something differ- 
ent. The Limberlost is life. Here it is a carefully kept park. You 
motor, sail, and golf, all so secure and fine. But what I like is the 
excitement of choosing a path carefully, in the fear that the quag- 
mire may reach out and suck me down; to go into the swamp 
naked-handed and wrest from it treasures that bring me books 
and clothing, and I like enough of a fight for things that I always 
remember how I got them. I even enjoy seeing a canny old vul- 
ture eyeing me as if it were saying: ‘Ware the sting of the rattler, 
lest I pick your bones as I did old Limber’s.’ I like sufficient dan- 
ger to put an edge on life. This is so tame. I should have loved it 
when all the homes were cabins, and watchers for the stealthy 
Indian canoes patrolled the shores. You wait until mother comes, 
and if my violin isn’t angry with me for leaving it, tonight we 
shall sing you the Song of the Limberlost. You shall hear the big 
gold bees over the red, yellow, and purple flowers, bird song, 
wind talk, and the whispers of Sleepy Snake Creek, as it goes past 
you. You will know!” Elnora turned to Freckles. 

He nodded. “Who better?” he asked. “This is secure while the 
children are so small, but when they grow larger, we are going 
farther north, into real forest, where they can learn self-reliance 
and develop backbone.” 

Elnora laid away the violin. “Come along, children,” she said. 
“We must get at that backbone business at once. Let’s race to the 
playhouse.” 

With the brood at her heels Elnora ran, and for an hour lively 
sounds stole from the remaining spot of forest on the Island, 
which lay beside the O’More cottage. Then Terry went to the 


PHILIP FINDS ELNORA 32I 

playroom to bring Alice her doll. He came racing back, dragging 
it by one leg, and crying: “There’s company! Someone has come 
that mamma and papa are just tearing down the house over. I 
saw through the window.” 

“It could not be my mother, yet,” mused Elnora. “Her boat 
is not due until twelve. Terry, give Alice that doll ” 

“It’s a man-person, and I don’t know him, but my father is 
shaking his hand right straight along, and my mother is running 
for a hot drink and a cushion. It’s a kind of a sick person, but 
they are going to make him well right away, anyone can see that. 
This is the best place. I’ll go tell him to come lie on the pine 
needles in the sun and watch the sails go by. That will fix him!” 

“Watch sails go by,” chanted Little Brother. “ ’A fix him ! 
Elnora fix him, won’t you?” 

“I don’t know about that,” answered Elnora. “What sort of 
person is he, Terry?” 

“A beautiful white person; but my father is going to ‘color 
him up,’ I heard him say so. He’s just out of the hospital, and he 
is a bad person, ’cause he ran away from the doctors and made 
them awful angry. But father and mother are going to doctor 
him better. I didn’t know they could make sick people well.” 

“ ’Ey do anyfing!” boasted Little Brother. 

Before Elnora missed her, Alice, who had gone to investigate, 
came flying across the shadows and through the sunshine waving 
a paper. She thrust it into Elnora’s hand. 

“There is a man-person — a stranger-person!” she shouted. 
“But he knows you ! He sent you that! You are to be the doctor! 
He said so ! Oh, do hurry ! I like him heaps !” 

Elnora read Edith Carr’s telegram to Philip Ammon and un- 
derstood that he had been ill, that she had been located by Edith 
who had notified him. In so doing she had acknowledged defeat. 
At last Philip was free. Elnora looked up with a radiant face. 

“I like him ‘heaps’ myself !” she cried. “Come on, children, we 
will go tell him so.” 

Terry and Alice ran, but Elnora had to suit her steps to Little 
Brother, who was her loyal esquire, and would have been heart- 
broken over desertion and insulted at being carried. He was 


322 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

rather dragged, but he was arriving, and the emergency was 
great, he could see that. 

“She’s coming!” shouted Alice. 

“She’s going to be the doctor!” cried Terry. 

“She looked just like she’d seen angels when she read the let- 
ter,” explained Alice. 

“She likes you ‘heaps’ ! She said so !” danced Terry. “Be wait- 
ing! Here she is!” 

Elnora helped Little Brother up the steps, then deserted him 
and came at a rush. The stranger-person stood holding out 
trembling arms. 

“Are you sure, at last, runaway?” asked Philip Ammon. 

“Perfectly sure!” cried Elnora. 

“Will you marry me now?” 

“This instant! That is, any time after the noon boat comes in.” 

“Why such unnecessary delay?” demanded Ammon. 

“It is almost September,” explained Elnora. “I sent for mother 
three days ago. We must wait until she comes, and we either have 
to send for Uncle Wesley and Aunt Margaret, or go to them. I 
couldn’t possibly be married properly without those dear people.” 

“We will send,” decided Ammon. “The trip will be a treat for 
them. O’More, would you get off a message at once?” 

Everyone met the noon boat. They went in the motor because 
Philip was too weak to walk so far. As soon as people could be 
distinguished at all Elnora and Philip sighted an erect figure, with 
a head like a snowdrift. When the gangplank fell the first person 
across it was a lean, red-haired boy of eleven, carrying a violin in 
one hand and an enormous bouquet of yellow marigolds and 
purple asters in the other. He was beaming with broad smiles 
until he saw Philip. Then his expression changed. 

“Aw, say!” he exclaimed reproachfully. “I bet you Aunt Mar** 
garet is right. He is going to be your beau!” 

Elnora stooped to kiss Billy as she caught her mother. 

“There, there!” cried Mrs. Comstock. “Don’t knock my head- 
gear into my eye. I’m not sure I’ve got either hat or hair. The 
wind blew like bizzem coming up the river.” 

She shook out her skirts, straightened her hat, and came for- 


PHILIP FINDS ELNORA 323 

ward to meet Philip, who took her into his arms and kissed her 
repeatedly. Then he passed her along to Freckles and the Angel 
to whom her greetings were mingled with scolding and laughter 
over her wind-blown hair. 

“No doubt I’m a precious spectacle!” she said to the Angel. “I 
saw your pa a little before I started, and he sent you a note. It’s in 
my satchel. He said he was coming up next week. What a lot 
of people there are in this world ! And what on earth are all of 
them laughing about? Did none of them ever hear of sickness, or 
sorrow, or death? Billy, don’t you go to playing Indian or chasing 
woodchucks until you get out of those clothes. I promised Mar- 
garet I’d bring back that suit good as new.” 

Then the O’ More children came crowding to meet Elnora’s 
mother. 

“Merry Christmas!” cried Mrs. Comstock, gathering them in. 
“Got everything right here but the tree, and there seems to be 
plenty of them a little higher up. If this wind would stiffen just 
enough more to blow away the people, so one could see this 
place, I believe it would be right decent looking.” 

“See here,” whispered Elnora to Philip. “You must fix this 
with Billy. I can’t have his trip spoiled.” 

“Now, here is where I dust the rest of ’em!” complacently re- 
marked Mrs. Comstock, as she climbed into the motor car for her 
first ride, in company with Philip and Little Brother. “I have 
been the one to trudge the roads and hop out of the way of these 
things for quite a spell.” 

She sat very erect as the car rolled into the broad main ave- 
nue, where only stray couples were walking. Her eyes began to 
twinkle and gleam. Suddenly she leaned forward and touched 
the driver on the shoulder. 

“Young man,” she said, “just you toot that horn suddenly 
and shave close enough a few of those people, so that I can see 
how I look when I leap for ragweed and spake fences.” 

The amazed chauffeur glanced questioningly at Philip, who 
slightly nodded. A second later there was a quick “honk!” and a 
swerve at a comer. A man engrossed in conversation grabbed the 
woman to whom he was talking and dashed for the safety of a 


324 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

lawn. The woman tripped in her skirts, and as she fell the man 
caught and dragged her. Both of them turned red faces to the car 
and berated the driver. Mrs. Comstock laughed in unrestrained 
enjoyment. Then she touched the chauffeur again. 

“That’s enough , 55 she said. “It seems a mite risky . 55 A minute 
later she added to Philip, “If only they had been carrying six 
pounds of butter and ten dozen eggs apiece, wouldn’t that have 
been just perfect ? 55 

Billy had wavered between Elnora and the motor, but his 
loyal little soul had been true to her, so«the walk to the cottage 
began with him at her side. Long before they arrived the little 
O’Mores had crowded around and captured Billy, and he was 
giving them an expurgated version of Mrs. Comstock’s tales of 
Big Foot and Adam Poe, boasting that Uncle Wesley had been 
in the camps of Me-shin-go-me-sia and knew Wa-ca-co-nah be- 
fore he got religion and dressed like white men ; while the mighty 
prowess of Snap as a woodchuck hunter was done full justice. 
When they reached the cottage Philip took Billy aside, showed 
him the emerald ring and gravely asked his permission to marry 
Elnora. Billy struggled to be just, but it was going hard with him, 
when Alice, who kept close enough to hear, intervened. 

“Why don’t you let them get married?” she asked. “You are 
much too small for her. You wait for me!” 

Billy studied her intently. At last he turned to Ammon. “Aw, 
well! Go on, then!” he said gruffly. “I’ll marry Alice!” 

Alice reached her hand. “If you got that settled let’s put on our 
Indian clothes, call the boys, and go to the playhouse.” 

“I haven’t got any Indian clothes,” said Billy ruefully. 

“Yes, you have,” explained Alice. “Father bought you some 
coming from the dock. You can put them on in the playhouse. 
The boys do.” 

Billy examined the playhouse with gleaming eyes. Never had 
he encountered such possibilities. He could see a hundred amus- 
ing things to try, and he could not decide which to do first. The 
most immediate attraction seemed to be a dead pine, held per- 
pendicularly by its fellows, while its bark had decayed and fallen, 
leaving a bare, smooth trunk. 


PHILIP FINDS ELNORA 325 

“If we just had some grease that would make the dandiest 
pole to play Fourth of July with!” he shouted. 

The children remembered the Fourth. It had been great fun. 

“Butter is grease. There is plenty in the ’frigerator,” suggested 
Alice, speeding away. 

Billy caught the cold roll and began to rub it against the tree 
excitedly. 

“How are you going to get it greased to the top?” inquired 
Terry. 

Billy’s face lengthened. “That’s so!” he said. “The thing is to 
begin at the top and grease down. I’ll show you!” 

Billy put the butter in his handkerchief and took the comers 
between his teeth. He climbed the pole, greasing it as he slid 
down. 

“Now, I got to try first,” he said, “because I’m the biggest and 
so I have the best chance; only the one that goes first hasn’t 
hardly any chance at all, because he has to wipe off the grease on 
himself, so the others can get up at last. See?” 

“All right!” said Terry. “You go first and then I will and then 
Alice. Phew ! It’s slick. He’ll never get up.” 

Billy wrestled manfully, and when he was exhausted he boosted 
Terry, and then both of them helped Alice, to whom they 
awarded a prize of her own doll. As they rested Billy remem- 
bered. 

“Do your folks keep cows?” he asked. 

“No, we buy milk,” said Terry. 

“Gee ! Then what about the butter? Maybe your ma needs it 
for dinner!” 

“No, she doesn’t!” cried Alice. “There’s stacks of it! I can have 
all the butter I want.” 

“Well, I’m mighty glad of it!” said Billy. “I didn’t just think. 
I’m afraid we’ve greased our clothes, too.” 

“That’s no difference,” said Terry. “We can play what we 
please in these things.” 

“Well, we ought to be all dirty, and bloody, and have feathers 
on us to be real Indians,” said Billy. 


326 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

Alice tried a handful of dirt on her sleeve and it streaked beau- 
tifully. Instantly all of them began smearing themselves. 

“If we only had feathers,” lamented Billy. 

Terry disappeared and shortly returned from the garage with 
a feather duster. Billy fell on it with a shriek. Around each one’s 
head he firmly tied a twisted handkerchief, and stuck inside it a 
row of stiffly upstanding feathers. 

“Now, if we just only had some pokeberries to paint us red, 
we’d be real, for sure enough Indians, and we could go on the 
warpath and fight all the other tribes and bum a lot of them at 
the stake.” 

Alice sidled up to him. “Would huckleberries do?” she asked 
softly. 

“Yes!” shouted Terry, wild with excitement. “Anything that’s 
a color.” 

Alice made another trip to the refrigerator. Billy crushed the 
berries in his hands and smeared and streaked all their faces 
liberally. 

“Now are we ready?” asked Alice. 

Billy collapsed. “I forgot the ponies! You got to ride ponies to 
go on the warpath!” 

“You ain’t neither!” contradicted Terry. “It’s the very latest 
style to go on the warpath in a motor. Everybody does ! They go 
everywhere in them. They are much faster and better than any 
old ponies.” 

Billy gave one genuine whoop. “Can we take your motor?” 

Terry hesitated. 

“I suppose you are too little to run it?” said Billy. 

“I am not!” flashed Terry. “I know how to start and stop it, 
and I drive lots for Stephens. It is hard to turn over the engine 
when you start.” 

“I’ll turn it,” volunteered Billy. “I’m strong as anything.” 

“Maybe it will start without. If Stephens has just been run- 
ning it, sometimes it will. Come on, let’s try.” 

Billy straightened up, lifted his chin and cried: “Houpe! 
Houpe! Houpe!” 

The little O’Mores stared in amazement. 


PHILIP FINDS ELNORA 327 

“Why don’t you come on and whoop?” demanded Billy. 
“Don’t you know how? You are great Indians! You got to whoop 
before you go on the warpath. You ought to kill a bat, too, and see 
if the wind is right. But maybe the engine won’t run if we wait to 
do that. You can whoop, anyway. All together now!” 

They did whoop, and after several efforts the cry satisfied Billy, 
so he led the way to the big motor, and took the front seat with 
Terry. Alice and Little Brother climbed into the back. 

“Will it go?” asked Billy, “or do we have to turn it?” 

“It will go,” said Terry as the machine gently slid out into the 
avenue and started under his guidance. 

“This is no warpath!” scoffed Billy. “We got to go a lot faster 
than this, and we got to whoop. Alice, why don’t you whoop?” 

Alice arose, took hold of the seat in front and whooped. 

“If I open the throttle, I can’t squeeze the bulb to scare peo- 
ple out of our way,” said Terry. “I can’t steer and squeeze, too.” 

“We’ll whoop enough to get them out of the way. Go faster!” 
urged Billy. 

Billy also stood, lifted his chin and whooped like the wildest 
little savage that ever came out of the West. Alice and Little 
Brother added their voices, and when he was not absorbed with 
the steering gear, Terry joined in. 

“Faster!” shouted Billy. 

Intoxicated with the speed and excitement, Terry threw the 
throttle wider and the big car leaped forward and sped down 
the avenue. In it four black, feather-bedecked children whooped 
in wild glee until suddenly Terry’s war cry changed to a scream 
of panic. 

“The lake is coming!” 

“Stop!” cried Billy. “Stop! Why don’t you stop?” 

Paralyzed with fear Terry clung to the steering gear and the 
car sped onward. 

“You little fool! Why don’t you stop?” screamed Billy, catch- 
ing Terry’s arm. “Tell me how to stop!” 

A bicycle shot beside them and Freckles standing on the ped- 
als shouted: “Pull out the pin in that little circle at your feet! 51 

Billy fell on his knees and tugged and the pin yielded at last. 


328 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

Just as the wheels struck the white sand the bicycle sheered close. 
Freckles caught the lever and with one strong shove set the 
brake. The water flew as the car struck Huron, but luckily it was 
shallow and the beach smooth. Hub deep, the big motor stood 
quivering as Freckles climbed in and backed it to dry sand. 

Then he drew a deep breath and stared at his brood. 

“Terence, would you kindly be explaining?” he said at last. 

Billy looked at the panting little figure of Terry. 

“I guess I better,” he said. “We were playing Indians on the 
warpath, and we hadn’t any ponies, and Terry said it was all the 
style to go in automobiles now, so we ” 

Freckles’s head went back, and he did some whooping himself. 

“I wonder if you realize how nearly you came to being four 
drowned children?” he said gravely, after a time. 

“Oh, I think I could swim enough to get most of us out,” said 
Billy. “Anyway, we need washing.” 

“You do indeed,” said Freckles. “I will head this procession 
to the garage, and there we will remove the first coat.” For the 
remainder of Billy’s visit the nurse, chauffeur, and every servant of 
the O’More household had something of importance on their 
minds, and Billy’s every step was shadowed. 

“I have Billy’s consent,” said Philip to Elnora, “and all the 
other consent you have stipulated. Before you think of some- 
thing more, give me your left hand, please.” 

Elnora gave it gladly, and the emerald slipped on her finger. 
Then they went together into the forest to tell each other all 
about it, and talk it over. 

“Have you seen Edith?” asked Philip. 

“No,” answered Elnora. “But she must be here, or she may 
have seen me when we went to Petoskey a few days ago. Her 
people have a cottage over on the bluff, but the Angel never told 
me until today. I didn’t want to make that trip, but the folks 
were so anxious to entertain me, and it was only a few days until 
I intended to let you know myself where I was.” 

“And I was going to wait just that long, and if I didn’t hear 
then I was getting ready to turn over the country. I can scarcely 
realize yet that Edith sent me that telegram.” 


PHILIP FINDS ELNORA 329 

“No wonder! It’s a difficult thing to believe. I can’t express 
how I feel for her.” 

“Let us never speak of it again,” said Philip. “I came nearer 
feeling sorry for her last night than I have yet. I couldn’t sleep on 
that boat coming over, and I couldn’t put away the thought of 
what sending that message cost her. I never would have believed 
it possible that she would do it. But it is done. We will forget it.” 

“I scarcely think I shall,” said Elnora. “It is something I like 
to remember. How suffering must have changed her! I would 
give anything to bring her peace.” 

“Henderson came to see me at the hospital a few days ago. 
He’s gone a rather wild pace, but if he had been held from 
youth by the love of a good woman he might have lived differ- 
ently. There are things about him one cannot help admiring.” 

“I think he loves her,” said Elnora softly. 

“He does ! He always has ! He never made any secret of it. He 
will cut in now and do his level best, but he told me that he 
thought she would send him away. He understands her thor- 
oughly.” 

Edith Carr did not understand herself. She went to her room 
after her good-bye to Henderson, lay on her bed and tried to 
think why she was suffering as she was. 

“It is all my selfishness, my unrestrained temper, my pride in 
my looks, my ambition to be first,” she said. “That is what has 
caused this trouble.” 

Then she went deeper. 

“How does it happen that I am so selfish, that I never con- 
trolled my temper, that I thought beauty and social position the 
vital things of life?” she muttered. “I think that goes a little past 
me. I think a mother who allows a child to grow up as I did, who 
educates it only for the frivolities of life, has a share in that child’s 
ending. I think my mother has some responsibility in this,” Edith 
Carr whispered to the night. “But she will recognize none. She 
would laugh at me if I tried to tell her what I have suffered and 
the bitter, bitter lesson I have learned. No one really cares, but 
Hart. I’ve sent him away, so there is no one! No one!” 

Edith pressed her fingers across her burning eyes and lay still. 


330 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

“He is gone ! 55 she whispered at last. “He would go at once. He 
would not see me again. I should think he never would want to 
see me any more. But I will want to see him ! My soul ! I want 
him now ! I want him every minute ! He is all I have. And I’ve 
sent him away. Oh, these dreadful days to come, alone! I can’t 
bear it. Hart! Hart!” she cried aloud. “I want you! No one cares 
but you. No one understands but you. Oh, I want you!” 

She sprang from her bed and felt her way to her desk. 

“Get me someone at the Henderson cottage,” she said to Cen- 
tral, and waited shivering. 

“They don’t answer.” 

“They are there ! You must get them. Turn on the buzzer.” 

After a time the sleepy voice of Mrs. Henderson answered. 

“Has Hart gone?” panted Edith Carr. 

“No ! He came in late and began to talk about starting to Cali- 
fornia. He hasn’t slept in weeks to amount to anything. I put him 
to bed. There is time enough to start to California when he awak- 
ens. Edith, what are you planning to do next with that boy of 
mine?” 

“Will you tell him I want to see him before he goes?” 

“Yes, but I won’t wake him.” 

“I don’t want you to. Just tell him in the morning.” 

“Very well.” 

“You will be sure?” 

“Sure!” 

Hart was not gone. Edith fell asleep. She arose at noon the 
next day, took a cold bath, ate her breakfast, dressed carefully, 
and leaving word that she had gone to the forest, she walked 
slowly across the leaves. It was cool and quiet there, so she sat 
where she could see him coming, and waited. She was thinking 
deep and fast. 

Henderson came swiftly down the path. A long sleep, food, 
and Edith’s message had done him good. He had dressed in new 
light flannels that were becoming. Edith arose and went to meet 
him. 

“Let us walk in the forest,” she said. 

They passed the old Catholic graveyard^ and entered the 


PHILIP FINDS ELNORA 33I 

deepest wood of the Island, where all shadows were green, all 
voices of humanity ceased, and there was no sound save the 
whispering of the trees, a few bird notes and squirrel rustle. There 
Edith seated herself on a mossy old log, and Henderson studied 
her. He could detect a change. She was still pale and her eyes 
tired, but the dull, strained look was gone. He wanted to hope, 
but he did not dare. Any other man would have forced her to 
speak. The mighty tenderness in Henderson’s heart shielded her 
in every way. 

“What have you thought of that you wanted yet, Edith?” he 
asked lightly as he stretched himself at her feet. 

“You!” 

Henderson lay tense and very still. 

“Well, I am here!” 

“Thank Heaven for that!” 

Henderson sat up suddenly, leaning toward her with question- 
ing eyes. Not knowing what he dared say, afraid of the hope 
which found birth in his heart, he tried to shield her and at the 
same time to feel his way. 

“I am more thankful than I can express that you feel so,” he 
said. “I would be of use, of comfort, to you if I knew how, Edith.” 

“You are my only comfort,” she said. “I tried to send you 
away. I thought I didn’t want you. I thought I couldn’t bear the 
sight of you, because of what you have seen me suffer. But I went 
to the root of this thing last night, Hart, and with self in mind, 
as usual, I found that I could not live without you.” 

Henderson began breathing lightly. He was afraid to speak or 
move. 

“I faced the fact that all this is my own fault,” continued 
Edith, “and came through my own selfishness. Then I went 
farther back and realized that I am as I was reared. I don’t want 
to blame my parents, but I was carefully trained into what I am. 
If Elnora Comstock had been like me, Phil would have come 
back to me. I can see how selfish I seem to him, and how I appear 
to you, if you would admit it.” 

“Edith,” said Henderson desperately, “there is no use to try 
to deceive you. You have known from the first that I found you 


332 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

wrong in this. But it’s the first time in your life I ever thought 
you wrong about anything — and it’s the only time I ever shall. 
Understand, I think you the bravest, most beautiful woman on 
earth, the one most worth loving.” 

“I’m not to be considered in the same class with her.” 

“I don’t grant that, but if I did, you must remember how I 
compare with Phil. He’s my superior at every point. There’s no 
use in discussing that. You wanted to see me, Edith. What did 
you want?” 

“I wanted you to not go away.” 

“Not at all?” 

“Not at all ! Not ever! Not unless you take me with you, Hart.” 

She slightly extended one hand to him. Henderson took that 
hand, kissing it again and again. 

“Anything you want, Edith,” he said brokenly. “Just as you 
wish it. Do you want me to stay here, and go on as we have 
been?” 

“Yes, only with a difference.” 

“Gan you tell me, Edith?” 

“First, I want you to know that you are the dearest thing on 
earth to me, right now. I would give up everything else, before 
I would you. I can’t honestly say that I love you with the love 
you deserve. My heart is too sore. It’s too soon to know. But I 
‘love you some way. You are necessary to me. You are my comfort, 
my shield. If you want me, as you know me to be, Hart, you may 
consider me yours. I give you my word of honor I will try to be 
as you would have me, just as soon as I can.” 

Henderson kissed her hand passionately. “Don’t, Edith,” he 
begged. “Don’t say those things. I can’t bear it. I understand. 
Everything will come right in time. Love like mine must bring 
a reward. You will love me some day. I can wait. I am the most 
patient fellow.” 

“But I must say it,” cried Edith. “I — I think, Hart, that I 
have been on the wrong road to find happiness. I planned to finish 
life as I started it with Phil; and you see how glad he was to 
change. He wanted the other sort of girl far more than he ever 


PHILIP FINDS ELNORA 333 

w?Jit.ed me. And you, Hart, honest, now — I’ll know if you don’t 
tell rae the truth! Would you rather have a wife as I planned to 
live life with Phil, or would you rather have her as Elnora Com- 
stock intends to live with him?” 

“Edith!” cried the man, “Edith!” 

“Of course, you can’t say it in plain English,” said the girl. 
“You are far too chivalrous for that. You needn’t say anything. I 
am answered. If you could have your choice you wouldn’t have 
a society wife, either. In your heart you’d like the smaller home 
of comfort, the furtherance of your ambitions, the palatable 
meals regularly served, and little children around you. I am sick 
of all we have grown up to, Hart. When your hour of trouble 
comes, there is no comfort for you. I am tired to death. You find 
out what you want to do, and be, that is a man’s work in the 
world, and I will plan our home, with no thought save your 
comfort. I’ll be the other kind of a girl, as fast as I can learn. 
I can’t correct all my faults in one day, but I’ll change as rapidly 
as I can.” 

“God knows, I will be different, too, Edith. You shall not be 
the only generous one. I will make all the rest of life worthy of 
you. I will change, too!” 

“Don’t you dare!” said Edith Carr, taking his head between 
her hands and holding it against her knees, while the tears slid 
down her cheeks. “Don’t you dare change, you big-hearted, 
splendid lover ! I am little and selfish. You are the very finest, just 
as you are !” 

Henderson was not talking then, so they sat through a long 
silence. At last he heard Edith draw a quick breath, and lifting 
his head he looked where she pointed. Up a fern stalk climbed 
a curious-looking object. They watched breathlessly. By lavender 
feet clung a big, pursy, lavender-splotched, yellow body. Yellow 
and lavender wings began to expand and take on color. Every 
instant great beauty became more apparent. It was one of 
those double-brooded freaks, which do occur on rare occasions, 
or merely an Eacles Imperialis moth that in the cool damp north- 
ern forest had failed to emerge in June. Edith Carr drew back 


334 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

with a long, shivering breath. Henderson caught her hands and 
gripped them firmly. Steadily she looked the thought of her 
heart into his eyes. 

“By all the powers, you shall not!” swore the man. “You have 
done enough. I will smash that thing!” 

“Oh no you won’t !” cried the girl, clinging to his hands. “I am 
not big enough yet, Hart, but before I leave this forest I shall 
have grown to breadth and strength to carry that to her. She 
needs two of each kind. Phil only sent her one!” 

“Edith, I can’t bear it ! That’s not demanded ! Let me take it !” 

“You may go with me. I know where the O’ Mores’ cottage 
is. I have been there often.” 

“I’ll say you sent it!” 

“You may watch me deliver it !” 

“Phil may be there by now.” 

“I hope he is ! I should like him to see me do one decent thing 
by which to remember me.” 

“I tell you that is not necessary !” 

“ ‘Not necessary!’ ” cried the girl, her big eyes shining. “Not 
necessary? Then what on earth is the thing doing here? I just 
have boasted that I would change, that I would be like her, that 
I would grow bigger and broader. As the words are spoken God 
gives me the opportunity to prove whether I am sincere. This is 
my test, Hart ! Don’t you see? If I am big enough to carry that 
to her, you will believe that there is some good in me. You will 
not be loving me in vain. This is an especial Providence, man. Be 
my strength! Help me, as you always have done!” 

Henderson arose and shook the leaves from his clothing. He 
drew Edith Carr to her feet and carefully picked the mosses from 
her skirts. He went to the water and moistened his handkerchief 
to bathe her face. 

“Now a dust of powder,” he said when the tears were washed 
away. 

From a tiny book Edith tore leaves that she passed over her 
face. 

“All gone !” cried Henderson, critically studying her. “You look 
almost half as lovely as you really are !” 


PHILIP FINDS ELNORA 335 

Edith Carr drew a wavering breath. She stretched one hand 
to him. 

“Hold tight, Hart!” she said. “I know they handle these things, 
but I would quite as soon touch a snake.” 

Henderson clenched his teeth and held steadily. The moth had 
emerged too recently to be troublesome. It climbed on her fingers 
quietly and obligingly clung there without moving. So hand in 
hand they went down the dark forest path. When they came to 
the avenue, the first person they met paused with an ejaculation 
of wonder. The next stopped also, and everyone following. They 
could make little progress on account of marveling, interested 
people. A strange excitement took possession of Edith. She began 
to feel proud of the moth. 

“Do you know,” she said to Henderson, “this is growing easier 
every step. Its clinging is not disagreeable, as I thought it would 
be. I feel as if I were saving it, protecting it. I am proud that we 
are taking it to be put into a collection or a book. It seems like 
doing a thing worth while. Oh, Hart, I wish we could work to- 
gether at something for which people would care as they seem 
to for this. Hear what they say ! See them lift their little children 
to look at it!” 

“Edith, if you don’t stop,” said Henderson, “I will take you 
in my arms here on the avenue. You are adorable!” 

“Don’t you dare!” laughed Edith Carr. The color rushed 
to her cheeks and a new light leaped in her eyes. 

“Oh, Hart!” she cried. “Let’s work! Let’s do something! 
That’s the way she makes people love her so. There’s the place, 
and thank goodness, there is a crowd.” 

“You darling!” whispered Henderson as they passed up the 
walk. Her face was rose-flushed with excitement and her eyes 
shone. 

“Hello, everyone !” she cried as she came on the wide veranda. 
“Only see what we found up in the forest ! We thought you might 
like to have it for some of your collections.” 

She held out the moth as she walked straight to Elnora, who 
arose to meet her, crying: “How perfectly splendid! I don’t even 
know how to begin to thank you.” 


336 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST 

Elnora took the moth. Edith shook hands with all of them 
and asked Philip if he were improving. She said a few polite 
words to Freckles and the Angel, declined to remain on account 
of an engagement, and went away, gracefully. 

“Well, bully for her!” said Mrs. Comstock. “She’s a little thor- 
oughbred after all !” 

“That was a mighty big thing for her to be doing,” said Freckles 
in a hushed voice. 

“If you knew her as well as I do,” said Philip Ammon, “you 
would have a better conception of what that cost.” 

“It was a terror!” cried the Angel. “I never could have done 


it.” 


“ ‘Never could have done it!’ ” echoed Freckles. “Why, Angel, 
dear, that is the one thing of all the world you would have done !” 

“I have to take care of this,” faltered Elnora, hurrying toward 
the door to hide the tears which were rolling down her cheeks. 

“I must help,” said Philip, disappearing also. “Elnora,” he 
called, catching up with her, “take me where I may cry, too. 
Wasn’t she great?” 

“Superb!” exclaimed Elnora. “I have no words. I feel so 
humbled!” 

“So do I,” said Philip. “I think a brave deed like that always 
makes one feel so. Now are you happy?” 

“Unspeakably happy!” answered Elnora. 










r * ° ^ 0 S*. 

\yooo» « v v 

A” f. • • « • * 

jy .*v % *> v 

& ''€$&£- ** ^ • 

• ^lESl^ - w<v ** 


% *-’•’ *° V * 

/ .!*•- O. VT .•V'* *> 

.\a<^«5>a'„ *Pa a? *Vf»Sv.' A 


o f* 0 


°o * 


'i»y 


4» “VZ/WW * <V? v .Y> ■* ® .\ V«^ Q Y///*$r&X$$ * .< 3 1 /' 

< V* ^ A, ^ ^ ^ 

^ V « c .*«§^K- °... *<* t'rttisk* V >° .-^J 


^ v* 

Wl 



^ - **d« 

••/ V^V ... 

-> t * 0 o* C* ^ a * • ^ V^ t « ^ 

: \/ .♦***• * 

; \ 





••■>»• A 



; v«t v * 

.* #*% '.W%M; J *+1 

<*_'•••* A° WvJ* -A 

<* .V^k- * / 

-tvyi ' 





. "fe v 8, : 


>* »P -v : 


♦ A 



• ^ A* « 


* /. 


• <*$ 

* ^7 ^ 

<» ■'•.»* 4 A 0* V *«T7T.' ,<\ 

. ^ .0* .•••♦ . 4 s 

J> * ^ ^ 



Deacidified using the Bookkeeper process. 
Neutralizing Agent: Magnesium Oxide 
* Treatment Date: 



JW 199? 

BBKKEEFER 


^ .VSfe V A^ ' 


PRESERVATION TECHNOLOGIES, INC. 
1 1 1 Thomson Park Drive 
Cranberry Twp., PA 16066 
(412) 779-2111 


jn/i f /r tt. 










: * f : 
*• ’V ^ 

. V<* 

VV ■»<» ° 

♦ ^ o 




0 o 


*»' A v> **?,^** <Cr 

.4* «W#3.’ ^ C 

* ;«3»' ^d* • 

° K^ ^ ' 

+* *..<.> o 

V .I*”- c 



‘♦tt;*’ y V '*rrr»* 

* A.0 r . .•!£•. *> 


*«. ** /. 

* 


,<b u\ : 
* «? ^ • 
4 .v *, - 



° ** ^ 

• <L^ O * % ~t4A/"~* r ' 

^ A 0 ^ « 


> »: 






**. ** ** 


w ‘WRJ">+ '°W^ ; /\ •. 

»* ,6 V >\ <**•.*• \b ^ 7 /i* 

c° •%$$&*!' °o A y~jml+ * c° * 0 -^' ° 




», do ns nos. 

LIBRARY BINDINQ 


SEP 81' 

1 

ST. AUGUSTINE . 


' 1 * AV *$* 4 • • 0 9 tty *iii* At 

AV ^ ^ a’*® a V .<T »^, 

“ ^ *♦ .V«“»**- ♦- A * 

V^ v - 



♦ «? *& • 
4 V +. ’ 


_ * 




